A Year in the (School) Life
by knightlycat
Summary: Blaine Anderson, former bodyguard to, and now live-in love of, movie and Broadway star Kurt Hummel has finally achieved his dream of becoming a teacher. A series of stories about his first year at Carlisle Academy.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone!**

**Welcome to what *might* be the last story in the Not Like the Movies 'verse. I've worked my way through the prompts I could fit into the story and unless inspiration strikes (or I get an amazing prompt) this might be it. I've loved writing in this 'verse and I want to thank everyone who has read and reviewed. Reviews = love!**

**There will be 9 or 10 chapters to this story.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Kurt or Blaine, but they own my heart.**

* * *

_Spotted on the Upper East Side: Kurt Hummel's live-in-love, Blaine Anderson, arriving at Carlisle Academy for his first day of work as a teacher at the venerable school. No word yet on what classes he will be teaching, but you can bet attendance will be high. Why would anyone skip a class when there is such guaranteed eye-candy to be had? We'll share the top student tweets as they come in. — _New York In a Minute_, September 1__st__, 2020_

=^..^=

September

"Blaine, thank you for making yourself available on such short notice."

Blaine nodded at Headmaster Pamela Foley as he slipped into the chair she'd indicated with a wave of her hand. He lifted his chin and pasted on a smile that implied a confidence he didn't really feel. He tried to tell himself that it was a good thing that his boss was calling him in for an unscheduled, but "very important" meeting only two weeks into his teaching career at Carlisle Academy. She probably just wanted to touch base and see how things were going. She was just checking in on him.

It most definitely didn't have anything to do with the two love notes he'd found on his desk that week or the whispers that followed him down the hallways or the paparazzi that had been thrown off campus the morning of the first day of school.

Definitely not.

Probably not.

He cleared his throat to dislodge the jumping-contest-sized frog that had lodged there. "I was happy to hear that you wanted to talk. We haven't really had an opportunity to meet since school started."

"I hear you're quite the hit with your classes. There hasn't been this much chatter about a new teacher since I don't know when. We've had famous students here before, but never a famous teacher." Pamela's eyes sparkled even though her face remained serious and Blaine felt the tightness in his chest loosen just the slightest bit.

"Oh, the kids are just excited about having a teacher kind of close to their age," he protested modestly. "They'll get over it as soon as I give the first pop quizzes."

"Hmm…I think it might have something to do with your," Pamela lifted up the tablet computer from her desk and peered at it over the top of her glasses, "and I quote 'Cute smile and incredible eyes'. That was a tweet by a student in your World History class. There were lots to choose from, so I picked one of the tamer ones. There were also several about your," she looked at the tablet again, "'tasty boyfriend' and how you are one half of the student's 'OTP'. That means 'one true pair'. I looked it up on the Urban Dictionary."

Blaine's chest seized up again as he squirmed in his chair. "That isn't…I mean…I—"

"Relax, Blaine." Pamela smiled slightly, seeming to find his discomfort amusing. "The student body's fascination with you isn't why I've called you here today. We have a situation that I'm hoping you might be willing to help us out with."

"Of course," Blaine said with a questioning tilt of his head, incredibly glad for the opportunity to pretend that his boss hadn't just recited a fan tweet to him. "What can I do to help?"

Pamela swiveled her chair a little to the left and laid her tightly clasped hands on the top of her desk. "We've unexpectedly had two high profile students enroll in kindergarten who require some additional security precautions. Now, this normally wouldn't be a concern, since, as you know, we've taught the children of many prominent families over years and pride ourselves on the secure environment we supply, but Mr. Billings, who is the kindergarten teacher best equipped to handle the situation, has just informed us that he's going to have to take an indefinite leave of absence due to health issues."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Blaine said politely, trying to remember if he'd met Mr. Billings yet.

"Thankfully the problem isn't life threatening, but this leaves us in a bit of a lurch. We need someone to take over the class who has a background that will reassure the parents that their children are in safe hands. We'd like that teacher to be you."

It took a second for the words to register. Though Blaine was teaching classes for several grades, they were all middle school and up. He was certified to teach at a kindergarten level and many of the kids he'd protected over the years had been between the ages of five and ten, but still. "Me? But what about the classes I already have?"

"It would be much easier to replace you for those classes than for us to find another kindergarten teacher who fits our specialized needs. Your history as a bodyguard is invaluable. Plus—and this is just fortuitous and not a reason for this request, I assure you—it would also give the older students a way to get used to your being here without putting you in such…close proximity. A way to temper your presence, if you'll forgive the cooking metaphor."

Blaine was enjoying his classes and was already charmed by several of the students, but he had to admit, if only to himself, that his quasi-fame and very real notoriety had proved disruptive at times. It would be nice to come in and not have to wonder if the girl in the third row was tweeting about him or if the note being passed in the back of the class was about him or Kurt. He'd always loved little kids and it was the years he'd spent with his youngest charges that had made him want to return to teaching in the first place.

Pamela's eyes were locked on his face and they narrowed as he considered the offer, as if sensing that he was leaning towards saying yes and only needed a slight push to make the commitment. "You'd actually be teaching two different classes of fifteen students each. One in the morning and one in the afternoon," she said as she pushed a little pile of photos towards him with one finger. "Here are some pictures Mr. Billings has taken of the classes so far this year. The children are very well-behaved and the plan for the year is already laid out. You'd just need to follow it." She leaned forward, going in for the kill. "The kids need you, Blaine."

If there was anything Blaine wanted more in life than to be needed (other than be loved by Kurt) he didn't know what it was. He flipped through the photos, taking in each adorable smiling face. Pamela had found his Achilles heel and she'd taken him down with one swift strike.

He agreed to her proposal and they finished out the rest of the meeting making plans for his transition. Finally, he shook her hand and hoisted his bag up on his shoulder. He waited until he was halfway down the hall before pulling out his phone to call Kurt with the news. As he waited for Kurt to pick up, he leaned back against a row of lockers, his fingers drumming against the metal as his mind raced with plans and possibilities.

=^..^=

As soon as the front door closed behind him, Blaine dropped his bag to the floor with a loud thud and lurched towards the bedroom, where he could hear Kurt humming like he always did when he was reorganizing his closet. It was only a few days until it was officially fall and the summer clothes were being relegated to the guest bedroom in favor of longer sleeves and jewel tones. Kurt had showed him the diagram of his planned layout the night before.

Pausing for only a second to gently kick off the bright blue boat shoes that had been a first day of school gift from Kurt, he lifted the covers up off the bed and slid under, yanking them back in tightly over his head to form a warm and dark cocoon. The comforter didn't smell nearly as much like dog as he'd been expecting. Kurt had probably just had it dry cleaned. He wondered if it was possible to asphyxiate there under the weight of all that down. Well, if Kurt loved him at all he would come save him from his certain death and if not, at least the paramedics would find him on a fresh smelling bed. Not as big a deal as having clean underwear on (which he did, of course. Yay him!), but it was something.

A tug on the material he held clutched in his fists startled him and he let go. Cool air wafted over his face and he pried one eye open a crack to find Kurt crouching down beside him.

"How'd it go?" Kurt asked biting his lip as if fighting a smile.

"Remember Schwarzenegger's first day in _Kindergarten Cop_? Well, he's an _expert_ compared to me. The kids are going to go home and tell their parents about this new idiot they had for a teacher and how they hated him and I'm going to be fired." Blaine sighed all the air out of his lungs, watching as a stray feather poking out of the pillow flickered with his breath. That was how he felt—like a feather buffeted by the wind, trying hard to not be knocked over. "The bright side is that we'll be able to spend more time together when I'm unemployed."

A smile warred with a sympathetic frown on Kurt's face. The smile won. "Drama queen. Where's my confident Blaine from this morning? The fearless bodyguard who stares down stalkers and red carpet crashers without a flinch? The one who just this morning talked about how he was going to revolutionize teaching as we know it and maybe write a bestselling book in the process?"

Blaine scowled at the ceiling morosely. He wasn't a drama queen. He was legitimately the worst teacher ever in the history of…ever. "Turns out my tactics work better one-on-one. Holly, the absolutely cutest little girl with a missing front tooth and bright red hair, was crying because her goldfish died last night and while I was talking with her, the other fourteen were turning all the coats inside out and filling the pockets with paint. And that was the best thing that happened all day."

Kurt's pursed his lips sadly. "Poor goldfish. I remember all too well the deep and lasting pain of first fish death. The agonizing choice between flush or bury. The cold, empty bowl left sitting on the counter as a sad reminder of all that was lost."

"Kurt…I don't mean to demean the pain of your first pet's death, but could we maybe get back to me and how utterly horrific my day was?" Blaine said. He knew he was whining, but it wasn't often he indulged in self-pity and he wanted to get the most out of it while he could. Maybe Kurt would draw him a bubble bath. Or give him a massage. Or a sympathy blow job. Or preferably, all three.

"Of course, poor baby," Kurt cooed. Blaine closed his eyes and let himself sink down deeper into the bed as he felt fingers begin to stroke through his hair. "You'll do better tomorrow. Just remember that you can't take your eyes off any of them for a second. I think you just dialed the bodyguard awareness back a little too far, that's all."

"Do I have to go back? Can't I just stay here and play with Elphie all day? You make enough money for me to be a house husband, right? I promise I'll wear a sexy outfit while I clean."

"If I thought for even one second that you really wanted to quit I'd be behind you, but we both know that you don't back down from a challenge. You just need to regroup and maybe reset your expectations a bit and you'll be all set to start again tomorrow. How about some soup? Would that help?"

Blaine opened one eye again and looked up at Kurt hopefully. "Is it your curry squash?"

"It is." Kurt slid off the bed and reached out a hand. "Come on, it's possible I made my famous salted browned butter Nutella chocolate chip cookies, too."

With his mouth watering and spirits lifted, Blaine allowed Kurt to pull him to his feet. He could feel static crackling in his hair and knew within seconds it would expand into a 'fro of epic proportions. Nothing about this day was working out as planned. "Did you make enough for me to take to class? I bet they'd love me if I brought them cookies."

"Just who do you think you're talking to, mister?"

=^..^=

To Blaine's great surprise, the stampede of outraged parents demanding that he be removed from his position never materialized. It wasn't as if they didn't have the opportunity—almost every kid was dropped off at the door by some adult, be it parent, nanny, or chauffer—but each and every one of them left with just a smile and a nod in Blaine's direction. No yelling, no accusations of neglect, nothing.

By the time the morning bell had rung, all fifteen of his charges had arrived and were in the process of organizing themselves into a very lopsided version of the circle he'd had them gather in the day before. He watched them with a certain degree of apprehension, briefly entertaining the idea that they'd met in secret before school and come up with a plan to lull him into a false sense of security before sweeping in for the attack.

Intimidated by fifteen five- and six-year olds. If only his old co-workers could see him now.

"Mr. A?" A girl seated in the most misshapen part of the circle called out (Blaine got a warm, fuzzy feeling at the use of the nickname he'd asked them all to use the day before). "I made something for you!"

Blaine came over and dropped down into his place in the circle, afraid if he moved too fast he'd startle the kids, like a herd of wild antelope. "You did?"

"Me too!"

"Look at mine! My mommy helped"

"I brought you an apple! Do you like apples? My mom says they keep the doctor away and I hate the doctor, so apples are my mostest favorite."

A red apple that looked suspiciously like it had been nibbled on and several pieces of colored construction paper were thrust at Blaine from various directions and he took each one with a grin and a polite "thank you."

On one of the pages was a drawing of Blaine wearing a gigantic version of the bowtie he'd had on the day before, while another showed what was presumably a stick figure Blaine surrounded by a circle of smaller smiling stick figures. There was a drawing of a dog with five legs, a paper almost completely filled with colorful flowers, and last, but certainly not least, an amazingly well done drawing of him riding a giant pink dinosaur.

Looking down at the art, Blaine felt his heart warm in his chest. Not only hadn't his students hated him, but they'd liked him enough to think about him when they got home. They'd liked him enough to create art for him. Art.

"Ah, guys, these are amazing," he said around the growing lump in his throat. "Thank you so much. I think we'll pin these up on the wall over there, what do you think?"

Blaine looked around at the smiling faces and grinned. Huh. Would you look at that? And he didn't even have to bribe them with cookies.


	2. Chapter 2

_UGH this is so not fair!1 You know how I told you guys that I was able to convince my counselor to get me into first period World History because Blaine was the teacher? Well they just reassigned him =(((((((( I was going to be his star student. We were going to be friends and he and Kurt were going to come see me perform in my band. They were going to invite me to Kurt's next premier. But nooooo, the school had to go and make him a kindergarten teacher. KINDERgarten. Those kids don't even know who he iS. And the worst part? It's too late to get out of the class. I'm stuck learning stupid history from old Mr. Gonzales. #FML #fuckin KINDERGARTEN_

_I'm sorry you're so disappointed….but kindergarten teacher? Be still my heart. uwu_

_Are you really so stupid that you actually thought you'd become friends? #Lol teenagers_

_Did you take any pics of Blaine at school? We only got those blurry pap shots from the first day and I'm having wiiiiiithdraaaaaawls fandom I am disAPPOINTED_

_Why do you people care about Plain Anderson anyways? HE IS NOT FAMOUS! Your just trying to suck up to Kurt by pretending to like his poor choice in men_

_Have you seen Kurt at school yet? He must be there all the time, right? I bet they can't go a whole day without seeing each other. U_U #soulmates_

_Kindergarten! I bet he's a perfect kindergarten teacher. He's so kind and cute (and almost their height, I mean what?) I've got new fic ideas blooming, ladies! #stay tuned for the smut #I've been saving up_

=^..^=

October

"Okay, everyone, let's line up at the door. Does everyone have their buddy? I need to hear a yes or no. Use your voices, please."

Fifteen high-pitched variations of "yes" returned in almost perfect unison and Blaine swung the door open to usher his students out into the hall. A tiny black cat led the way, holding hands tightly with Spiderman, followed closely by a banker in a three-piece suit with matching briefcase and a princess who was inexplicably wearing a colorful jester's hat.

Halloween was in full swing at Carlisle Academy and the kindergarteners were going trick-or-treating.

They were off to visit the other classrooms to collect all the candy they could carry and then head to the gym for a showing of _Its the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown_ on the giant movie screen that appeared like magic from the ceiling.

When Blaine had found out that there were Halloween themed dances at the school for the sixth grade and up, but nothing for the younger kids, he'd set about putting an event together for the grade school classes. He'd worked with other teachers to set up candy stations throughout the school and, with Kurt's help, had come up with some not-too-scary decorations (it helped to have a boyfriend with a horror tolerance of an eight year old as a sounding board) and fun theme food that several of the parents (or at least their housekeepers and personal chefs) helped out with.

"Mr. A, will they have chocolate peanut butter pumpkins?" the frog next to him lisped excitedly. "I like them even better than chocolate covered flies. Ribbit ribbit."

Blaine hooked a thumb around the strap of his Super Mario overalls and wiggled his upper lip to set his fake mustache swaying, causing the frog to giggle. "They'd better, or we'll say 'arrivederci!' and move onto the next stop."

There was crying at the second stop on their sugar gathering tour, when someone stepped on Parker's cape, leaving a dirty footprint on it and tearing it around the clasp at his neck. Blaine dried the tears with a handkerchief pulled from one of his handy overall pockets and helped him put his fake vampire teeth back in while one of the other teachers searched her desk for a safety pin.

A small fight broke out at the fourth stop, when Porsche ("My mom and dad named me after the place I was conceived!"), dressed as a fire fighter, and Siobhan, wearing a costume based on some recent animated movie Blaine only vaguely recognized, both reached for the last Kit Kat. Blaine made a quick swap with Dakota (the frog)—trading a peanut butter pumpkin for one of his Kit Kats—and separated the girls. He'd have preferred to help them learn some lesson about sharing, or learning to live with life's little disappointments, but since they were in the middle of a party he took the easy way out, handing them each one of the treasured candy bars as they went back to their separate corners. At least Siobhan hadn't screamed like she had the day she'd found someone else sitting in her usual spot in the morning. He still had nightmares about that scream.

By the tenth classroom, the plastic pumpkins and colorful sacks were sagging under the weight of all the plundered candy and it was time to head to the gym.

"Alright everyone, find your buddies again and let's head down to the movie!" Blaine watched as the kids bumped into each other comically in their efforts to find the other student they were assigned to walk with. He lifted his plastic wrench and counted out the pairs, which were twice as many as normal, since he was looking after both afternoon kindergarten classes. "Okay, how about a little traveling music? Let's show everyone how it's done!"

The kids started off down the hall, singing the theme song to _The Addams Family_ at the top of their lungs. Blaine took up the rear, lifting his fingers high and snapping with gusto as they passed open classroom doors filled with the curious faces of older students.

Kindergarten ruled. Snap snap.

=^..^=

It took Blaine and the other teachers less time than they'd expected to get the kids settled down for the movie and he was soon taking his seat along the back wall, where he could keep an eye out for any problems, but stay out of the way.

About halfway through the show, a ghost in a classic bed sheet costume who was holding a pillowcase that read "coal" in black letters on the side slipped into the room and took the seat beside him. Blaine nodded his head politely at the new arrival, looking them over carefully, wary of unfamiliar (and hidden) faces with all the children around.

"Trick-or-treat," the ghost whispered in his direction.

"I'm sorry, I don't have any…" Blaine got a glimpse of the eyes behind the holes in the sheet and gaped. "Kurt? Is that you?"

"Hmmm. I thought this costume was appropriate, given today's feature presentation." Kurt angled his shapeless head towards the picture flickering on the far wall, where Linus was busy explaining about the Great Pumpkin.

It was the first time Kurt had visited him at Carlisle since school had started. Given all the hubbub surrounding them over the summer, they'd decided that Blaine would settle in a little first and test the waters before introducing Kurt into the mix. Blaine still got asked, from time-to-time, when his famous boyfriend would be stopping by, but for the most part people seemed to have accepted that Kurt wasn't going to be hanging around.

Kurt settled back into his chair and casually crossed his legs. "How did the candy hunt go? Are the parents going to be cursing your name tonight as bedtime approaches for their hyped up little monsters…and cheerleaders, and Transformers, and—is that Freddie Kruger? Come one, is that really an appropriate costume for a six year old, because—" Blaine reached out to lightly cup a hand over Kurt's shoulder, snapping him out of his mini-rant.

"We trick-or-treated until we could trick-or-treat no more. The only things we left in our wake were empty bowls and the carrot sticks put out by Mrs. Albany." Blaine shook his head in dismay at the idea of healthy food on Halloween and laughed when Kurt did the same from under his sheet.

Blaine slid his hand down from Kurt's shoulder to his knee, rubbing it gently as he usually did when they watched movies on the couch at home. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Ms. Francoise, one of the second grade teachers and an unrepentant gossip, do a double-take, her attention zeroed in on his hand. She leaned over to the teacher beside her and whispered animatedly in her ear and Blaine wondered if she suspected it was Kurt in that costume or if she thought Blaine was getting up-close-and-personal with someone else. He sighed to himself and withdrew his hand. He'd have to clear things up with her before her speculations spread around the school or beyond.

Kurt leaned towards him slightly to whisper in his ear. "The kids are getting picked up right after the movie ends, right?"

"Yep." Blaine looked at the clock high up on the wall. "In half-an-hour."

"Excellent."

"I can hear the gears turning. What _have_ you got planned, Mr. Hummel."

"Oh, nothing much." Kurt's shrug rippled the sheet, which Blaine recognized as part of the Martha Stewart set that Kurt had retired from rotation a few months before, deeming them too dated to even be used in the guest room. "It's just that I have the night off, so I was thinking we could go back to the apartment, have a nice, cozy dinner, maybe sit in front of the fire…"

Blaine shifted closer. "Go on."

"Well, there is this…" A pale hand slipped out from under the sheet to grasp the bottom edge and pull it up a few inches, exposing part of a bare leg. Kurt slid it higher and higher until Blaine caught sight of a tight pair of blue leggings that started about halfway up his thigh.

It looked suspiciously like the sexy policeman costume that had been part of a "rekindle your love" care package that Cooper had sent them after the tension of the summer. Kurt had blushed wildly when he'd seen the costume (and accompanying accessories!) and it had disappeared into the back of their closet, never to be seen again.

Until now.

Mamma mia!


	3. Chapter 3

**This chapter wasn't part of the original plan, but it is well established that I give in to peer pressure. Please note the change in rating and proceed accordingly. **

**Come visit me at unchainmylove on tumblr! **

**Disclaimer: I wish.**

* * *

_What do you suppose Kurt and Blaine dress up as for Halloween? My bet's on some Broadway themed couples costume. #I vote for Lion King #spandex with no shirts and headdresses #mmm yes_

_How do we know they even dress up? We've never seen pics of them in costume. Maybe Halloween isn't their thing. Kurt has to dress up every night for TS. Maybe he doesn't want to do it on his days off too. Maybe they just stay home._

_Staying home doesn't preclude dressing up ;) #private costumes are the BEST costumes _

=^..^=

October (continued)

Though Blaine was anxious to be home now that he knew what Kurt was wearing under his ghost costume, he knew there was still work to be done. The movie finished right on schedule and he gathered his kids into a back corner of the room, clip-board in hand as he waited to check off each student's name as they were picked up by an authorized adult. Pick up wasn't usually such a formal production — he'd quickly gotten to know the parent or designated adult who regularly picked up each child, making the hand-off sometimes no more than a wave and smile — but that day he was responsible for students who weren't part of his normal class and the hustle and bustle of the party atmosphere in the gym could easily cause someone to get lost in the shuffle.

Blaine had the kids remove their masks, if they were wearing one, and carefully compared faces against the photos on the class roosters and checked the IDs of any adults he didn't recognize before letting anyone leave. A few of the adults looked a little annoyed at his precautions, but he didn't care. It was his job to keep the kids safe and he wasn't about to compromise for ease or speed (besides, he had a much better reason than all of them for wanting to get home quickly, so he felt no guilt in keeping them a few extra minutes).

Thirty minutes, ten sticky hugs, two lost candy bags, and one smashed mask and resulting crying jag later, all the kids on his list were checked off and he was free to go. After a quick dash to his classroom to get his bag (the urge to dive under Kurt's sheet for a few kisses to tide him over until they got home was fought off only because the hallways were still full of people) he and Kurt made their way to the street and the car service Kurt had waiting. Blaine saw some curious glances shot their way, but thankfully they were able to avoid anyone who might have stopped them to talk. He winced slightly when he saw a flash out of the corner of his eye, guessing that the paparazzi who still sometimes camped out across the street from the school had gotten a picture of them as they ducked through the open car door. He didn't know how much a photo of him with an unknown someone dressed as a ghost would go for. There was no way they could prove it was Kurt under all that high-thread count Egyptian cotton.

The town car didn't have a partition, so Blaine had to make due with holding Kurt's hand, his thumb moving back-and-forth slowly in a slow caress. He didn't know if it was all the sugar he'd eaten that day or what, but he felt like he was about to vibrate out of his skin with want. It didn't really make sense. It wasn't like he and Kurt ever denied themselves. It had only been two days since Kurt had come home from the theater pumped up from an extra-good performance and gone about putting that energy to extremely good use.

Maybe it was the novelty of the naughty costume Kurt wore under the sheet, maybe it was the fact that Kurt had finally come to see him at school, maybe it was the cycle of the moon.

Whatever the reason, he really needed Manhattan traffic to cooperate for just this once so that they could get home as quickly as possible before he no longer cared that the driver could see them and decided to ravish Kurt in the back seat.

=^..^=

The door slammed shut behind Blaine as Kurt spun him around and pressed him up against the door, his ghostly sheet discarded in a pile at their feet. Blaine barely caught a glimpse of the police uniform he was wearing before their lips met in a passionate kiss.

Kissing Kurt was definitely one of his favorite things to do. He kissed with his whole body and put more effort into it than anyone he'd ever met. If there was such a thing as a college course in kissing, Kurt would be the professor. Blaine sighed as their lips worked tougher and he felt Kurt's hands move up to his head, tugging on the curls that were a little larger than he usually wore them due to his costume. Kurt knew all his buttons.

"Wait," Kurt panted as he pulled back a few inches, his fingers still pulling on Blaine's hair. "I put something out for you in the bedroom."

Blaine raised an intrigued eyebrow. "Really?"

"Go. I'll be there in a few minutes."

Kurt let go of him and walked backwards towards the kitchen, finally letting Blaine get a full look at the costume he wore. The tight, dark blue spandex bodysuit had short sleeves and ended mid-thigh, a silky black belt, matching tie and silver police badge the only adornments. He could see that it closed down the front with buttons, or (he hoped) snaps or Velcro disguised as buttons and his fingers itched to find out which.

He took a step to follow, but Kurt shook his head slowly and pointed towards the bedroom. Blaine headed off down the hallway reluctantly, stopping only to pat Elphie on her head (which he total missed, putting his hand on her face instead when he looked back and caught a glimpse of the back of Kurt's costume).

Practically running to the bedroom he ground to a sudden stop when he saw his Nightbird costume from Comic Com laid out on the bed with a note beside it that simply read "Put this on 3."

Blaine couldn't remember ever having undressed so quickly. The sound of a seam ripping told him he'd probably torn one of the overall straps off his Mario costume in his haste, but he gave it only a second's thought as he kicked the whole thing into the corner to be dealt with later. He pulled the superhero costume on quickly, tying the cape around his neck, but leaving off the hard plastic chest piece.

He grabbed the black mask and jogged to the bathroom mirror. Catching a look at his reflection, he grimaced when he saw the comical mustache still anchored to his upper lip. He pulled it off, wincing as the glue pulled the hairs on his upper lip, and quickly dipped a cotton ball in the glue remover Kurt had made sure they had on hand. When the last sticky bits of adhesive were gone, he tied the mask on, running his hands over his hair to smooth it down as much as possible.

Back in the bedroom, Blaine was deciding whether to sit on the bed or stand at the foot of it in some typical superhero pose when he heard a noise behind him. He turned to find Kurt standing in the doorway, now wearing a police hat. Unable to tear his eyes away, Blaine took a step forward, only to freeze when Kurt held up a hand to ward him off and shook his head.

"Stop right there. Put your hands up. You're under arrest." Kurt's voice trembled with more than a hint of fear. It took Blaine only a second to catch on. One of the perks of being in love with an actor was the whole-hearted, unself-conscious role playing, though they'd seldom indulged.

Nightbird stepped back towards the closet and pulled his cape in around his body. "There are people out there that need my help," he said in a husky whisper meant to disguise his voice.

"Th-that's what we're here for…the police. You-you're nothing but a vigilante." The officer's hands shook as he brought out a pair of handcuffs from behind his back.

"I can help in ways you can't. Do things you won't."

The officer's eyes softened. "Like those kids you saved from the burning building. That was so brave, running into the fire like that. I watched you on TV and—" He broke off abruptly, his eyes shifting away for a second before returning to pin Nightbird down again. "No. I have to take you in. I have my orders. The mayor wants to make an example of you."

"You know I'm not a criminal. You believe in what I do for this city. I can see it in your eyes." Nightbird walked slowly towards the officer as he spoke, his voice calm and non-threatening.

"If they find out I had you and let you go...I'll lose my job," the officer said, uncertainty starting to show on his face.

"I won't tell a soul." Nightbird reached out a hand and placed it lightly on the officer's arm. "It'll be our secret, I swear."

The quiet snick of the handcuffs closing around his wrist caught Nightbird off guard and he pulled back in alarm, only to find himself tethered to the officer, who held the other end of the cuffs in his hand.

"I have a duty to perform." The uncertainty the officer had been feeling was gone, replaced by steely determination.

Nightbird looked around quickly, trying to formulate a plan for escape, and caught a glimpse of the handcuff keys sitting on the desk behind the officer, probably forgotten in his haste to make the arrest. "Look, Officer…"

"Johnson, Dean Johnson."

"Office Johnson…" Nightbird returned his hand to the officer's arm and moved into his personal space, causing him to back up until his (barely covered) thighs hit the corner of the desk. When he could move no further, Nightbird reached out to place his cuffed hand on Dean's hip, hoping that he would be so distracted by their closeness that he wouldn't notice him picking up the key. "We're after the same thing. We hunt the same bad guys. I just do it in a mask and a cape. We're on the same side. We should…team up. Work together."

As he spoke, Nightbird gathered Dean closer. He wrapped his arm around his waist and began to silently work at unlocking the cuff.

Dean seemed lost in a bit of a daze, his eyes blinking heavily as he tried to concentrate on what Nightbird was saying. "Together? What could I do to help you? I'm just a beat cop."

"You could pass me information you think I might need, point me towards people who are beyond the reach of the police. I could make sure you get credit for some of the crimes I solve. Quid pro quo."

A tiny smile played on Dean's lips as he entertained Nightbird's proposal, but before he could reply, Nightbird made his move. With a quick motion that he was sure Dean never saw coming, Nightbird pulled the now unlocked handcuff from around his wrist and snapped it on Dean's, spinning him and locking the second cuff into place as well, turning the captive into the captor. He expected protests and a struggle, but Dean just looked at him with shock and surprise and more than a hint of lust.

Nightbird knew it was his opportunity to escape, but he couldn't seem to get his feet to move. He was mesmerized by Dean's eyes. He leaned forward slowly, bringing their lips together in a tentative kiss. He lingered for only a few moments before pulling back.

"Wha-what was that for?" Dean asked, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.

"I'm a superhero, not a saint. And I'd have to be a sant to not give into the temptation of those lips."

Dean stared at him for a second in disbelief, before launching himself forward. Nightbird felt the impact of his body and caught him as Dean swung his cuffed hands up over his head and wrapping his arms around his neck before crashing their lips together.

The kiss was electric and Nightbird felt it to the bottom of his feet. It was as if every cell in his body was celebrating. He wondered fleetingly if Dean was a super villain in disguise, sent to defeat him with the magnificence of his body and lips.

Dean lifted his head, blinking a few times as if trying to regain his balance. "I know you fight for the underdog and can literally become one with the shadows to slip away undetected, but," he looked up at Nightbird through his lashes coyly, "do you have any other super powers I should know about? Increased stamina? Do you turn monstrously big when provoked?"

"I think you're confusing me with The Hulk."

Nightbird felt Dean's hand wrap around his erection and groaned with relief as pleasure sparked through him. "No, I really don't think I am," Dean purred. "I've kinda dreamt of this moment since the first time the cameras caught you—it was during the fight with that guy who was trying to mind control the whole city. Me...you...a pair of handcuffs. You don't know what seeing you in that tight suit does to me. The things I've thought of, the fantasies I've lived out in my head."

"Just in your head?" Nightbird asked, trying to keep his superhero cool.

Dean tilted his head, shadowing his eyes with the brim of his hat. "Well, maybe not just in my head. I may have acted a few out, but alone. Always alone."

"You're not alone now."

"No."

Nightbird watched with bated breath as Dean raised his bound hands and set them against his chest. He knew he should be on lookout for more cops arriving on the scene—Officer Dean Johnson might seem a little green, but even the newest rookie on the force knew to call for back-up before entering a strange building—but every thought of self-preservation flew out of his head as Dean's fingers walked their way up to his neck.

He lifted his chin out of the way as Dean worked at the fastener that held his cape on. With a nimble flick of his fingers the cape was gone, pooling at their feet with a wispy sigh.

Without pausing, Dean pushed on one of his shoulders, swinging him around until they were standing back-to-front. Nightbird clenched his teeth as Dean's finger ghosted over his neck, setting his nerve endings dancing. He had to do everything he could to disguise his ticklish response. To show such weakness to a possible adversary could be dangerous, even deadly.

Eventually, he felt the neck of his suit loosen under Dean's determined fingers. Holding his hands as far apart as the handcuffs would allow, Dean edged the suit down, peeling it away, uncovering Nightbird's body inch-by-inch.

And Nightbird let him.

Let him, that is, until Dean reached for his mask. Before the fingers got too close, Nightbird reared his head back. "Secret identity," he whispered, his voice full of regret.

Dean searched his eyes and nodded. He dropped his arms down between them and pushed in for another kiss. This time it was no mere meeting of the lips. Nightbird felt Dean's tongue lick against the seam of his mouth, as if asking to be granted entry. He gave way, his mouth opening softly. Dean surged forward, his tongue mapping out the new territory before returning to joust playfully with Nightbird's own.

The slick sound of their two suits rubbing together—Dean's still fully on, Nightbird's bunched around his waist—zipped through the silence of the room. Feeling the need to touch, Nightbird splayed his hands out on Dean's back, running them up and down the smooth material until he finally stopped to grab a handful of the belt fastened around his middle. Their tightly encased thighs flexed together, the muscles shifting and sliding as they moved.

Feeling at a disadvantage being the only one partially clothed, Nightbird tugged at the front closure of Dean's uniform. He felt a rush of satisfaction when he heard the sharp click of a snap separating. With a slight growl, he grabbed both sides of the garment and pulled, opening it up to Dean's waist in one smooth motion.

Dean stepped back as the cool air hit his chest, glancing down at the now exposed flesh with surprise. He lifted his head to meet Nightbirds's eyes and lifted an eyebrow as if to say "Challenge accepted." He then reached up and took his hat off, tossing it across the room as if it was a frisbee, not even looking to see where it landed.

Nightbird took a few steps back to lean against the desk and watched as Dean stalked closer with determination gleaming in his eyes. Dean came up against him so that they were plastered hip-to-shoulders and once again flung his hands over his neck, clasping them behind his head as they kissed again.

"I'm still going to take you in after this," Dean murmured as they broke for a breath. "I'll get a promotion out of this. Maybe get a medal from the mayor."

"You're welcome to try."

The jangling of the cuffs echoed in Nightbird's ears as they struggled to get closer, bending legs and arms in an attempt to close any remaining gaps between their bodies.

Then, something changed. Blaine could feel the moment when Kurt forgot about the roles they were playing. His lips softened, the kiss growing softer and deeper, losing its frantic edge.

"Blaine," Kurt whispered against his lips.

"What?" he asked, just as quietly.

Kurt tilted his head back to smile sweetly at him. "Nothing. Just Blaine."

With another jingle of handcuffs, Kurt pulled his arms from around Blaine's neck and swung them both around until Blaine was standing in front of the black leather and chrome executive desk chair that he'd finally convinced Kurt was too comfortable to pass up, even if it didn't totally go with their decor. Kurt pushed him down onto the soft leather and knelt in front of him. He tugged Blaine's costume down the rest of the way, wrestling a bit to pull it off over his feet. Once it was gone, he looked up at Blaine with a soft expression, his own costume gaping open, but still clinging to his wide shoulders.

"You'd think I'd have enough experience getting these suits off that it would be easy," he said wryly.

"I imagine it's easier when it's your own," Blaine replied, sinking against the back of the chair and widening his legs in anticipation of what was coming next.

Kurt's eyes sharpened at the movement and he rose up higher to set his elbows on Blaine's knees. He moved as if to kiss him again, then swung back, smiling knowingly as Blaine swayed forward to try and meet him halfway.

As Kurt lowered himself back to the floor, his hands drug down Blaine's thighs. The feeling of the cold metal of the chain between Kurt's wrists against his erection startled him and he jumped slightly, relaxing only when Kurt took him in hand, the warmth of his skin driving away the momentary chill.

Though he hadn't thought it possible, Kurt's touch turned him even harder. He and Kurt both watched with fascination as the head of his cock reddened and swelled, poking out of Kurt's slowly sliding fist.  
Kurt released his hold on Blaine's cock and and let out a little bark of laughter when it bounced back and slapped Blaine on the little belly he'd never been able to fully get rid of, leaving a wet spot were it hit. Blaine winced at the jarring motion.

Still chuckling, Kurt lifted it with one finger and brought it to his mouth, where he placed a kiss on the end. "Poor baby. I'll kiss and make it better."

Blaine was just about to politely suggest he do more than kiss it when Kurt opened his mouth and swallowed him down whole. Blaine's words died in his throat and turned into an embarrassing gurgle, but he didn't care. All he could think of was the warm, sweet suction of Kurt's mouth pulling him in deeper and deeper until not an inch of him wasn't encased in pure heaven. He sank heavily into the chair, letting wave-after-wave of pleasure crash over him.

After a few minutes, Kurt changed tactics, letting Blaine regain his control as he kissed and nibbled his way down the shaft, stopping to nestle in and take a few nips at his balls, before soothing them with his tongue. Kurt didn't usually like taking part in such activities unless both of them were recently showered, but this time he showed no sign of backing off, instead moving around to the other side to mouth at the other ball.

With one finger stroking Blaine's perineum, he returned his attentions to the shaft, licking back up to the head, where he re-dedicated his attentions. Blaine clenched his fists and his buttocks, fighting back the need to come right then and there.

With one last teasing lick, Kurt returned to his deep throating, drawing Blaine in impossibly deeper, the muscles of his throat massaging and pulling at Blaine's cock in almost unbearable ways.

It was only a few minutes before Blaine reluctantly tapped on Kurt's shoulder. "God, you've got to...stop Kurt. Stop or this evening will be over way too soon."

Kurt pulled off, gasping, his face reddened with effort. "But I wasn't done," he said with a husky voice and a mutinous expression.

"But I almost was."

A huge part of Blaine wanted to just tumble Kurt to the floor and go at it right there, but hardwoods weren't really conducive to what he had in mind, at least not without a body full of protesting muscles the next day, so he stood up, pulling Kurt with him. He moved to unlock the cuffs from Kurt's wrists, but Kurt just shook his head playfully and moved towards the bed, slowing stripping off his costume as he went, teasing Blaine with a peek at his ass before jumping up on the bed and sitting back on his legs, his hands resting on his thighs, his erection displayed proudly.

It wasn't often that they brought props into the bedroom, so it took Blaine a second to plan his next move (made all the more difficult since all his blood was rushing away from his brain).

Since Kurt had wanted to keep the handcuffs on, he started there. Blaine grasped one of Kurt's wrists and slipped the key into the lock, twisting it slowly, using an uplifted eyebrow to stifle his murmured protest. Kurt was facing the footboard of the bed, so he threaded the open end of cuffs under the metal bar closest to the bottom and then slipped it back over Kurt's just freed wrist, anchoring him down near the mattress. Kurt gave his arms a tug, testing the hold, and nodded with satisfaction when there was no movement.

Since the cuffs were heavy and lined with bright red fur (something he'd had to ignore when Kurt had first brought them out or he would have completely lost his character, such as it was) he assumed they hadn't come as part of the cheaper looking costume. An image of Cooper standing in the store, trying to select just the right pair of cuffs—maybe thinking red because it was one of Blaine's favorite colors—hovered at the edge of Blaine's mind and he had to push it away quickly or risk losing his erection.

With a seductive shimmy that did wonders to drive away any lingering thoughts of Cooper, Kurt laid himself out on his back, his arms stretched out above his head, a flirtatious smile on his lips. Blaine took a second and just looked. He didn't know if he'd ever get used to seeing Kurt like this—his wide shoulders, perfectly muscled arms, taunt stomach, and long, long legs on display just for him.

"Do you do this with the super villains you fight?" Kurt said, dropping back into character for a second.

"Am I just another notch on your utility belt?"

Blaine put a knee on the bed and placed his hands on either side of Kurt's body so that he could hover over him. "Never," he whispered as he lowered his head and gave him another lingering kiss. He pulled away before either one of them were satisfied, smiling to himself as Kurt craned his neck to chase after him. He laid down perpendicular Kurt and began to run his hands over all the place his eyes had touched before, paying special attention to the sensitive spot on Kurt's ribs that seemed to have a direct connection to his cock. Sure enough, as soon as his fingers traced over the area, Kurt's erection gave a jerk.

A moan escaped from his lips and his eyes slid shut. "Don't tease."

"Don't look at it as teasing. Look at it as insurance. This way, if your superiors question why you didn't bring me in you can truthfully say I tortured you."

Kurt opened his eyes and glared. "It'll only be torture if you don't put your hand on my dick in the next minute."

"Language, language," Blaine said, tapping his index finger against Kurt's lips gently. "Nightbird may be the nocturnal avenger, but during the day he's surrounded by little ears, so he tries not to fall into the habit of harsh language."

"Nightbird, Mr. Nocturnal Avenger?" Kurt returned sweetly.

"Yes?"

"Fuck me."

Blaine felt the world shrink until it was only the size of the bed. "Well, that definitely sounds like the job for a super hero."

Without another word, he grabbed ahold of Kurt's erection, squeezing it gently before forming a fist around it and starting up a rhythm designed to drive Kurt crazy. He trailed his other hand up to Kurt's nipples, pinching them slightly, loving the feeling of the pebbling and contraction beneath his fingers. Kurt's legs shifted restlessly, tangling in the sheets. He arched his back as Blaine swept his hand to the bottom of his shaft and used the tips of his fingers to press into the flesh at the base.

Feeling the urgent need to take things to the next level, Blaine flipped over and pulled the nightstand drawer open, taking out the supplies that they oh-so-inventively kept there. Though he and Kurt were long passed the days of needing to use a condom for protection, they still used them about half the time just for ease of clean-up, especially when they hadn't both had a chance to prepare fully.

His breath caught in his chest when he turned back. Kurt had taken those few seconds to turn over and was now face down, folded over his bent knees, his hands grasping the bar out in front of him and his head touching the bed in a pose Blaine recognized from the many times he'd watched Kurt do yoga.

He must have sat there stunned for too long, because Kurt humphed loudly into the covers and wiggled his ass enticingly. With trembling fingers, Blaine uncapped the lube bottle and poured some into his hand, making sure to warm it up before beginning to rub it slowly over Kurt's opening, which was clenching and releasing in anticipation. Sensing that this wasn't one of the occasions when Kurt wanted him to linger over the prep, Blaine worked his way inside, loosening, teasing, filling just enough to stoke the fires even more.

Kurt rode his fingers for a few minutes, then turned his head so that their eyes met. "Now, Blaine."

No further invitation was necessary. Blaine quickly donned the condom and slicked himself up. He lined himself up at the center of Kurt's rose and pushed in slowly, past the outer ring and deeper, steadily deeper, until he felt the second inner ring of muscles squeeze him. It was only in that position, from behind, that he could get deep enough to breech that second gate.

Taking a deep breath to gather what was left of his staying power, Blaine took hold of Kurt's hips and began to thrust. Short, long, fast, slow, he kept his movements ever changing, not giving Kurt a chance to get used to the motion. It wasn't long before he felt the pressure building low in his abdomen. He rose higher on his knees and put just enough pressure on Kurt's back to bend him forward the few inches needed to get just the right angle.

The ability to think left him as his balls pulled up tight against his body and then let go. "God, Kurt, I'm there already. I can't." He continued to thrust through his release, groaning when he felt Kurt ground down around him, clenching tightly to try and keep him inside.

As soon as the tremors left his body, Blaine slipped out of Kurt's warmth. He discarded the condom quickly and grabbed another palm full of lube before reaching around and grasping Kurt's erection, which he'd been grinding into the sheet beneath him. It took only a few moments before Kurt was moaning and thrashing his head, his hips pistoning as he drove into Blaine's slick fist.

Just as Kurt started to come, Blaine gripped his cock harder, stroking faster as he thrust two fingers back inside his tight hole. He bent them downwards and pulsed them against Kurt's prostate. Kurt shuddered violently, his orgasm seeming to double in pleasure and length, come pumping out of him in a seemingly never ending stream. The sight caused Blaine's repleted dick to jerk as it tried to get hard again and he winced, palming it softly to alleviate the ache.

Kurt collapsed onto his side as his body continued to shake with aftershocks. Blaine leaned back and grabbed the key, unlocking Kurt from the cuffs, his eyes running over the soft skin of his wrists to make sure they hadn't done any damage. Satisfied that all was well, he tossed the key and fluffy cuffs to the floor and did some collapsing of his own.

It was several minutes before the power of speech returned.

Kurt rolled over onto his back, careful to avoid the now soiled sheets, and lifted his arms above his head, staring at his wrists with some measure of surprise. "Huh. Didn't know I'd be into that. I'm going to have send Cooper a thank you card for that costume."

Blaine propped himself up on an elbow so quickly his head buzzed. "Don't you dare! It's been too long since he sent it. You send a thank you now and he'll know we've been up to something."

Kurt looked at him innocently. "But if we don't tell him how much we enjoyed it he'll never get us anything like it again."

"What?" Blaine sputtered. "You're the one who hid it in the back of the closet and—" He ground to a halt as Kurt began to laugh and dropped back to the mattress. "As if you'd ever give my brother even half that much information about our sex life. You just know he'd slip and say something the next time he comes within fifty feet of a video camera. He'd say just enough for it to be taken the wrong way, too. I can just see it now 'Famous Hollywood actor in kinky threesome with two brothers. News at eleven." He turned to see Kurt gazing up at the ceiling with a silly smile. "You're picturing the threesome right now, aren't you?"

"You're the one that said it. Hardly my fault."

"Sometimes I don't know why I put up with you."

There was a rustling noise as Kurt rolled over and set his chin on Blaine's shoulder. "Because I'm talented and amazing and every-once-and-a-while surprise you like I did today."

Blaine smiled and wrapped an arm around Kurt's shoulder. "I do love it when you zig when I think you're about to zag."

"Mmmm." Kurt snuggled his face into Blaine's neck and kissed his collarbone. "I am a little disappointed in our performance, though."

"Are you kidding?" Blaine said with surprise. "If we'd done any better we'd be in a coma for a week."

Kurt slapped his arm. "Not that performance. Office Johnson and Nightbird. 'Sounds like a job for a super hero'," he said in a rough imitation of Blaine. "I'd never agree to make a movie with such horrible dialog."

"Like yours was any better. 'Notch on your utility belt.' Please. I think we did okay, though. Improv is usually rough and unpolished."

"Maybe I'll give a little more notice next time so that we have a chance to put some thoughts down. Start to develop our characters."

"Next time?"

"Next time."


	4. Chapter 4

**Special thanks to my beta gottriplets for her help on this chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I wish.**

* * *

_OK – I'm not ashamed to admit that Blaine teaching has been a big old bummer. Do you realize that tweets from K&B have gone down 75% since school started and we've only gotten a few measly photos? This isn't fair. This job was supposed to mean endless couple sightings as Kurt walked home with him, humorous tweets about apples being left on desks and student crushes and more importantly-PHOTOS. Has that school banned phones or something? Has Kurt been hibernating? Do they just roll him out of a storage container somewhere to go on stage at night? #SAD PANDA IS SAD_

_I liked him better as secret bodyguard/boy toy_

_We did get a photo on Halloween. =) #finally!_

_But…that damn mustache covered half of Blaine's face and I'm still not convinced that it was Kurt under that sheet. I mean, it just doesn't seem like something he'd wear. I'm almost positive that it wasn't him and was just some random teacher._

'_Cause you know him so well that you know what kind of costume he'd wear? You must tell us of your various personal interactions that have led you to this deep understanding of his preferences #since we've never seen him in ANY Halloween costume before _

_Wank wank wank. I'm going to go re-read some bodyguard fic_

_Is it wrong of me to be thinking about sending my kid to Carlisle next year since she'll be starting kindergarten? __

=^..^=

November

Kurt closed the door behind him with his foot, shaking away the rain drops that had gathered in his hair during his dash from the car to the front door of his building, not having bothered to wait for the driver to get out and hold up an umbrella.

He usually had Sundays off, but a new Mr. Potato Head was joining the cast and they were having full cast rehearsals to get him up-to-speed as quickly as possible. He normally didn't mind putting in the extra time, but with Blaine working days now, Sundays were the one full day that they got to be together all week and the loss of even part of one seemed like cruel and unusual punishment. They'd been practically attached at the hip for most of the time they'd known each other and the contrast was jarring.

The horrible hours were the only thing he didn't love about working on Broadway. Doing eight shows a week was hard under any circumstances, but having a relationship with someone who had a "normal" schedule just made it all the more difficult, which was probably one reason why most actors tended to date other actors. Tuesday through Friday he typically only saw Blaine for a few hours or so in the late afternoon and then when he crawled into bed each night after returning from the theater. School started unnaturally early, so Blaine was usually gone before he got up in the mornings and Blaine, being the good-hearted sap that he was, had volunteered to be the advisor for some after school clubs, so he often didn't get home until 4 o'clock. Kurt left for the theater at 6 o'clock, so they barely had time to catch each other up and grab a bite to eat before he was out the door.

Others made it work and so would they; it was just taking some getting used to.

On top of all of that, his agent had called during one of his breaks earlier in the day and told him that he'd been offered two roles, one in a movie and one in an upcoming TV series. The movie—a crime thriller based on a bestselling novel—was already in pre-production and the actor they'd originally cast in the lead role had dropped out, so they were looking for a replacement. Filming would be done primarily in Los Angeles with a few weeks in the Caribbean.

The TV show was about a group of friends who were looking to break into the entertainment industry and they wanted Kurt as the aspiring Broadway singer. It was set to film in New York and several people he knew from town were already cast in it.

As thrilling as it was to be offered roles without having to audition, the news didn't really come at the best time. He'd been serious about eschewing Hollywood for Broadway and loved being back on the stage, but being a relationship definitely made it harder than he remembered. Could he give it all up so soon? Did he even want to?

The movie would start filming in January, but the producers were willing to rearrange the schedule so that he wouldn't be needed until March, allowing him to finish out his contract with _Toy Story_. It would mean leaving Blaine for three months, but it was a challenging role in a film that was expected to be a huge hit.

He wouldn't have to choose between the role and Broadway if he went with the TV show. He'd be just one of an ensemble, so he'd be able to film it while staying on the stage, if that was what he wanted. The role wasn't exactly one he was dying to play, though, and he didn't know if he even really wanted to do TV.

He could, of course, turn them both down and just stay dedicated to the stage, maybe find another role to originate, but it wouldn't be too long before Hollywood forgot about him, Academy Award winner or not, and the offers stopped coming. Besides, he'd spent so many years fighting to be seen and be respected for the talents that he had to offer, that the thought of turning down any great opportunity went against every fiber of his being.

A romantic dinner at one of the city's most exclusive restaurants was the plan for the evening, though, and he didn't want to spend the whole night talking the subject to death, so he resolved to wait until later to mention the offers to Blaine. They'd talk through all the options, the pros and the cons, and figure out what worked best for both of them. Because it wasn't just about him and his career any longer. He was part of an "us" now and that had to come first.

Kurt stumbled with a startled yelp as he turned to hang his jacket up and he looked down to see a small pile of shopping bags strewn around his feet. Blaine popped his head out of the kitchen at the noise and waved, pointing to the phone he held to his ear as he smiled and blew a kiss. From his exasperated tone, Kurt would bet his monthly clothing budget that he was talking with Cooper.

Hopping on one foot to pull the twisted rope handle of one bag off the heel of his boot, Kurt managed to get himself free, making a mental note to talk to Blaine about how leaving obstacles that might break the ankle of someone who made their living on the stage was probably not the best idea.

He joined Blaine in the kitchen and kissed his cheek before grabbing an apple from the bowl on the counter. He was about to take a bite when Blaine snatched it from his hand, pointing to the calendar on the wall, which had their dinner reservation circled in red with three exclamation points after it, as he mouthed "You'll spoil your appetite."

Kurt stuck his tongue out in response, but Blaine just smiled, then rolled his eyes as he made a "blah-blah-blah" motion with his hand to indicate that Cooper was still droning on, probably about the recurring role he was up for on one of the TV season's new police procedurals or the reality show that had approached him with a proposal.

With a regretful glance at his forbidden apple, Kurt drifted back out into the living room and picked up the abandoned shopping bags, carrying them to the bedroom where they wouldn't be a risk to life and limb. He hadn't meant to snoop (really, he hadn't), but one of the bags fell over and spilled its contents out onto the bed and what was he supposed to do, not tidy up?

The shirt he lifted up to fold seemed normal at first—a nice blue that would really look good on Blaine with some kind of brown design on it—but as he looked closer he realized the design was actually a repeated pattern of little embroidered teddy bears. Wearing hats. Yellow hats.

Suddenly he had something of much more importance to talk to Blaine about that career options.

"Hey Kurt," Blaine call out, his voice getting closer with every word, "did you see some bags in the hallway? They—"

Kurt turned around to face Blaine as he came in the room, with the shirt held up in front of his body and his head tilted to one side quizzically.

"Oh, you found them!" Blaine said as he reached out to paw through one of the other bags. "What do you think?" He held up another shirt, this one a polo with a small zebra and giraffe making an appearance on the chest.

"Making a fashion change you haven't told me about?"

"The kids really liked my lobster sweater last week, so I thought I'd get some more whimsical stuff to wear to school." Kurt felt Blaine tug on the shirt he was still holding, pulling him closer until they were just inches apart. "They're just for school. I won't wear them anywhere else. No need to look so traumatized."

"Sorry, I'm having high school flashbacks. It took me years to get Rachel to stop wearing animal sweaters. I don't know if I can go back there, Blaine. I don't know if I'm strong enough." Kurt's tone was comical, but he was only half kidding.

Blaine's eyes twinkled as he wrestled the shirt from Kurt's hand, tossing it down on the bed before winding an arm around his waist. "It's for the children, Kurt. Think of the children."

Kurt tried to be strong, but the touch of Blaine's lips on his neck drained his protests away. "Fine, but if I see a single reindeer or—heaven forbid—Christmas tree sweater we are going to have a major problem, Anderson."

"Deal. No Christmas sweaters." Kurt felt Blaine hesitate, the trail of wet kisses stopping at the hinge of his jaw. "Does your aversion to animals and festive designs include other articles of clothing?"

"Such as?" Kurt asked suspiciously, pulling back so he could see Blaine's face.

Blaine blinked innocently. "Bow ties? I found this website with the most adorable ties. Little cartoon turkeys for Thanksgiving, trees and candy canes for Christmas, hearts, shamrocks, kittens—you wouldn't believe them all. The kids would go wild."

"You already ordered some, didn't you?"

"Maybe."

Kurt wanted to string Blaine along a little longer, but the image of him wearing a bow tie covered with little smiling turkeys proved to be too much and a grin broke out onto his face. "Fine, but we're going to look at that site together and you're going to let me choose the next batch. They may be for entertainment value, but you can still try and make a statement."

"Of course. I put myself in your hands." Blaine lips returned to their previous journey towards Kurt's mouth, then paused again. "Did I mention they have socks, too?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks again to by wonderful beta gottriplets.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.**

* * *

…_Meanwhile, casting is underway for the latest show from hotshot scribe Gavin Patrick, which was ordered directly to series by ABC after a hard-fought bidding war with both NBC and FOX. Kaylen Jones, a Tony nominee last year for Best Featured Actress in a Musical, is already attached to the project, an ensemble musical drama set in New York City. Due to its high profile and guarantee for the new season, rumors are already flying about who might fill out the rest of the major roles. Some names being mentioned are Lily Collins and Oscar and Tony winner Kurt Hummel, who is already in town starring in Toy Story, the Musical…— _ReportingHollywood, December 4th, 2020

=^..^=

December

By the time December rolled around, Blaine finally felt like he was in the swing of things. He was really enjoying his work and, though he hated to admit it, liked that his students didn't know who Kurt was, or if they did they only knew him as Northstar or Woody in the _Toy Story_ musical and didn't really associate him with Blaine. It was kind of nice going a whole day without someone asking him for Kurt's autograph.

The month passed quickly and finally it was almost time to break for the holidays. As the final days ticked away, the kids got more restless and a little hard to control, until finally he decided to distract them with an art project.

He'd never been a particularly crafty kid, so the other teachers had been a big help in re-introducing him to the world of paint, glitter, and crayons. One of the projects they'd suggested involved photocopied octopus bodies and legs. The kids would cut the pieces out (with dull, child-proof scissors, of course) after coloring and decorating them and then connect them with a fastener that would allow the legs to swing and swivel.

Supplies were passed out and he gave simple instructions, asking them to put their cut out legs into piles to their right to avoid confusion. The kids were immediately engrossed in their work and a quiet settled over the room, broken only by excited whispers as the young artists got into their work.

This art things was easier than he thought.

He probably should have knocked on wood.

Blaine was rummaging through the art supply cabinet for the extra box of glue sticks that he knew was in there somewhere when a scream so loud and piercing that it wouldn't be amiss in any Hollywood horror movie split the air.

Siobhan.

Of course.

Hurrying just in case she'd really hurt herself and it wasn't just another girl-who-cried-wolf situation, Blaine got to the long craft table just in time to see Siobhan and Hazy (full name: Hazy Lovesong Hooper. Her mother was a pop star and her father an eccentric B-list actor. Enough said) tussling over a pile of octopus legs, tears streaming down each of their faces.

"Those are my legs!" Siobhan sobbed.

"He said put the legs on the right!" Hazy cried as she leaned back out of the way of Siobhan's flailing hands. "You put your legs on my pile. They're mixed up. We just need to—"

"Mr. A, she's trying to steal my legs and I worked _so_ hard on them." Siobhan has hard to understand through her sobs, but Blaine had gotten to be quite the expert over the past two months, so he was able to get the gist. "Tell her to take her ugly hands off my octopus."

Blaine winced at her choice of words. "That is not how we talk in this classroom, Siobhan. Please apologize to Hazy."

"No. She is ugly. I just tell it like it is." Siobhan thrust her hip out in perfect mimicry of the extremely well-dressed, snobby mom that dropped her off twice a week.

He sighed and tried a different tactic. "Art time is a reward, Siobhan, and you aren't acting like you deserve a reward right now."

"I don't care. Those are my octopus legs and she's ruining them by getting her stinky germs on them." She punctuated her petulant statement by reaching out and pushing Hazy away, causing her to stumble.

With a reluctance born more out of not wanting to deal with Siobhan's sure-to-be-coming temper tantrum than out of not wanting to dole out a punishment, Blaine asked her to leave the art table and go to the other side of the room, where a quiet spot was set up for the kids to "think" after they'd behaved badly. As she wandered off with a exaggerated wail, he swept the contested legs into a pile and counted them, finding twelve. He handed eight similarly colored legs to Hazy, who smirked across the room at Siobhan, glorying in her vindication, and put the rest on his desk, unsure if he was going to send them home with Siobhan so that she could finish at home or just throw them out the with other scraps as part of the punishment.

Siobhan, who had dramatically flung herself onto the floor and was crying into an oversized stuffed animal, lifted up her face and glared at him. "I hate you, Mr. A. I don't want you to be my teacher anymore."

Now, Blaine knew that Siobhan was (to put it nicely) a challenging child with a penchant for drop-of-the-hat crying jags who would probably be drawing pictures of happy rainbows before the hour was up, but her words still cut him to the quick.

He couldn't help but feel like he'd failed, somehow. Failed at teaching, failed at providing a safe place for his students, failed at being a friend. Just failed. He knew it wasn't possible to make everyone like him every second of every day, but he'd kind of made it a life-long mission to at least try. The idea that one of his young charges could hate him, if even for a hyperbolic second, stung him to the core. He was going soft. Two years ago he would have shrugged such a thing off. Where was the big (okay, not so big), tough bodyguard now?

The fun of the art project drained away (at least for him, Hazy and the other kids had returned to their attentions to their octopi after Siobhan stomped off) and he had to paste a smile on his face as he walked around the table, offering little bits of advice and helping with stubborn scissors. He made a conscious effort to ignore the pile of theatrically crying Upper East Side princess in the corner.

He'd been kind of right about Siobhan and by the end of the day her hatred seemed to have softened into a light disdain, but the dark cloud caused by her declaration still hung over him. Kurt had already left for a photo shoot by the time he got home, so there was no one to tease and comfort him into a better mood, to remind him that kids (and yeah, adults, too) threw around the word "hate" easily and unthinkingly.

Taking a page from Kurt's book, he had a cheesecake delivered from the local deli and sat on the couch wrapped up in a blanket burrito while he ate a huge slice and watched the latest episode of _Haute off the Press_ (he'd have to pretend he hadn't already seen it when he and Kurt had their usual lazy Sunday morning TV catch up while snuggled up in bed).

Alas, the behind-the-scenes look at the publishing of Vogue magazine wasn't the same without Kurt's snarky remarks, so he snapped off the TV and stared at the clock, counting the minutes until Kurt got home.

=^..^=

The next morning dawned cold and grey and Blaine wanted nothing more than to turn off the alarm and stay snuggled deep in Kurt's arms. He lingered for a few extra minutes, seriously toying with the idea of calling in sick and hiding like a coward, but it was the last day before winter break and he couldn't miss his chance to say goodbye to all the kids before vacation.

"Why don't you grab a long, hot shower while I make the coffee?" Kurt murmured roughly against his hair. Blaine could feel Kurt's nose give him a nuzzle and he turned into the familiar touch, his lips placing a careful kiss on Kurt's chest.

Kurt rolled out of bed and slid his feet into his waiting slippers before reaching over and sweeping the covers aside with a teasing smile. The rush of cold air spurred Blaine to action and within minutes he was standing under the invigorating rainfall showerhead that they'd had installed soon after moving in.

After an almost personal record breaking long shower (at least for a solo shower. He and Kurt took much, much longer when they showered together) he headed towards the closet to pick out his clothes, stumbling to a stop when we saw that Kurt had laid out a whole outfit on the bed for him.

"It's my favorite," Kurt said from the doorway. Blaine looked over at him, a red sweater in one hand and a white bow tie with reindeer faces on it clutched in the other. "You look heart stoppingly gorgeous in red."

"Oh yeah?"

"And Blue. And Yellow. And green. And—"

Blaine silenced Kurt with a kiss. He sighed happily when Kurt's arms settled over his shoulders, his hands clasping his elbows to pull them closer together.

"I love you," Blaine whispered as they broke apart.

Kurt's face lit up. "I love you, too, but you're going to be late if we keep this up much longer."

"Rain check for," Blaine tilted his head back so that he could see the clock on the bedside table, "four hours? It's a short day today."

"You've got yourself a deal, mister. Just remember where you were."

"Oh, I'll remember, don't you worry."

=^..^=

The school was having an assembly that morning, so the afternoon kindergartners had come in early, meaning that Blaine had thirty kids to corral instead of just the normal fifteen. He had two volunteer parents to help him out, but it was still a hectic day.

He'd greeted Siobhan with a smile as always, but her usual exuberant "Morning, Mr. A!" was absent, replaced by an almost inaudible "Hi." Hopes that she'd forget about her anger at him faded as the day went on. In fact, she got sadder and quieter as time passed. Blaine tried to ignore his aching heart, smiling brightly for his other students as he tried to keep their focus on the speaker and not on the fact that vacation was just around the corner.

Finally, the bell signaling the end of the assembly rang and he gathered the kids together, leading them in a conga line back to the classroom, backed by music blaring out of the speakers of his phone. The other students stopped and stared as the kindergartners danced by, smirking and shaking their heads, but Blaine could see that they were just jealous that they were no longer young enough to have such silly, unbridled fun.

Several of the parents were already waiting for them when they returned so Blaine said some quick goodbyes, baffling several students with his promise to see them next year. Blaine saw Siobhan's nanny standing out in the hallway talking to someone, so he called her over to the door, holding up her little coat so that she could slip her arms inside.

She still looked like she was about to cry, so he searched for something to say, not wanting to leave things on such a bad note. "I'm sorry if you're still angry about yesterday, but—" Blaine broke off with surprise when Siobhan threw herself at him, her tiny arms flung around his legs.

"I don't want to go, Mr. A! Don't make me go!"

"What?" Blaine pulled back and knelt in front of her, reaching out a finger to wipe away a tear that rolled down her cheek. "What's wrong?"

"Mommy said it'll be three whole weeks before I come to school again. Do you know how many days that is? Almost a hundred! If I'm gone for that long you'll forget me!"

Blaine suppressed a chuckle. Siobhan looked so heartbroken there was no way he wanted to belittle her feelings by laughing. "It's actually only twenty two days until school starts again and there's no way I'll forget you. And even if I started to I've got a whole album of pictures and that drawing you made me last week to remind me."

Siobhan narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "Really?"

"Really. In fact, you're more likely to forget me. You're going to have so much fun over break that you won't even remember my name. Your mom tells me you guys are going to Disneyworld for Christmas."

Her sad little face brightened at the reminder that she'd be seeing Mickey Mouse very soon. "I'd have more fun if you came with us. I bet my mommy and daddy would let you come." She leaned closer and put her lips to his ear. "We're quite wealthy, you know."

This time he couldn't contain his laugh. "Thank you for the invitation, that is very generous of you, but I think it's best if I stay here. I have family coming into town and they'd be sad if they got here and I wasn't there to meet them. You'll have to take lots of pictures, though, and tell me all about the characters you meet and the rides you go on." Siobhan's face began to scrunch up mutinously, so he tried to head off a full-fledged meltdown. "Maybe you could even do a show-and-tell when school starts again," he said, playing to her deep-seated need for attention.

"We could make a video!" she cried, bouncing up and down on her toes. "And I could bring everyone back presents." She jumped at him in excitement and hugged him tightly. "You are the bestest teacher ever, Mr. A. I love you."

Blaine patted her back lightly, his throat too tight to say anything more than "Aw, I love you, too, sweetheart."

A happy smile back on her face one again, Siobhan ran out to excitedly tell her nanny about the upcoming show-and-tell. Blaine waved goodbye and smiled at the adorable sight of her Tinkerbell backpack bouncing up and down on her back as she skipped down the hall.

The rest of the kids cleared out quickly and before he knew it, Blaine was alone in a still and silent classroom. He pulled out his phone and dialed Kurt as he tidied the room up a little, knowing that he wouldn't want to deal with it on the first morning back after New Year's.

"How did it go?" Kurt asked, not even bothering to say hello. "Was your little drama queen all smiles or plotting your downfall like a tiny Eve Harrington?"

Blaine folded in the legs of an easel and slid it into the back of the storage closet, careful to hold it away from his clothes in case there was any lingering wet paint from the day before. "She seemed upset all day, but I don't think it was about yesterday at all."

"No? What, did daddy tell her he wouldn't buy the pony farm she wanted for Christmas?"

"Actually, I think the family already has a horse farm in Kentucky."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. "Of course they do."

"Reverse snob," Blaine teased.

"Private school sell-out," Kurt retorted, their playful exchange a common one ever since school had begun. "So why was the little princess troubled today?"

Finished with the room, Blaine gathered up his bag and coat and headed for the door. "She didn't want to go on winter break. Said it was going to last a hundred days and that she'd miss me," he sighed happily.

"That kid's pretty smart. I might just have to meet her someday."

Blaine came to an abrupt halt halfway down the stairs. "I'm pretty sure that's a recipe for disaster. You'd either end up loathing each other or come away with plans for a revival of _Gypsy_ with her as baby June and you as Papa Rose."

"Well, now that you mention it…"


	6. Chapter 6

**Special thanks to gottriplets for the beta help.**

* * *

_Dead. DeAD. DEADDEADDEAD. I am now blogging from the great beyond. LOOK AT THEM! Seriously, could they be any cuter? #stick a fork in me I'm done #do you think ghosts can choose who they haunt? 'Cause…_

_Cute is not the word I'd use [ovaries exploding gif]_

_Well, that certainly made my holidays brighter. I never knew I needed this in my life until this moment. Perfect family is perfect. #RL OTP how I love you_

_Kurt's tweet says they're enjoying the holidays with family and friends. We know about Kurt's family, but I just realized I don't know anything about Blaine's except for Cooper (hubba hubba!). Anyone know more? _

_I don't understand. How can this be so damn adorable (Kurt wearing a sparkly halo! Blaine in a Santa hat! Elphie with reindeer antlers!) and yet so completely 100% lady-part tingle inducing hot? #answer: arms arms arms arms arms arms arms #oh and hair and face too_

_Having impure thoughts about someone wearing a halo. I'm going to hell, aren't I? #worth it #totally worth it #I blame the white fluffy sweater Kurt's wearing #how dare he?_

=^..^=

January

Kurt was just finishing up his morning moisturizing routine and making a mental note to pick up some more Crème de la Mer, when he heard a series of violent sneezes from the bedroom, followed by a long, drawn-out groan. With one last glance in the mirror to make sure he didn't have any stray dabs of cream remaining anywhere, he tightened the belt of his robe and headed for the door, stopping only to grab the box of tissues from the vanity.

"I take it the tickle didn't go away like you'd hoped?" he asked the top of Blaine's head, which was all that was visible above the blankets.

Blaine pulled the comforter down a few inches so that he could look up at Kurt, his watery eyes narrowing at the bright light streaming in from the window. "No. It's a cold. A horrible, nasty, weekend destroying cold. Or the flu. Swine flu, bird flu, Spanish flu. Those little germ spewing monsters brought back their mutated germs from wherever it was they went over break and gave them all to me."

"That bad, huh?" Kurt laid the back of his hand against Blaine's forehead. "You don't feel like you have a fever, so I think we can safely rule out the Spanish flu."

"I don't have a fever _yet_," Blaine said, his doom filled voice pinched off by the congestion in his nose.

"How about I get you some breakfast and cold medicine while you try not to dwell on all the historical epidemics you know of?"

"Are there any Pop Tarts?"

Kurt tried to hide his grimace as he reached out to smooth a wrinkle from the blanket. "I don't understand why you like those things. Besides, you probably can't taste anything with your nose all stuffed up anyways. How about some oatmeal or cream of wheat? Keep your strength up." Blaine just lay there, blinking at him with a lost expression. "Fine. I think there's still part of a box in the pantry from the last time you were sick. You've got really strange sickness cravings, has anyone ever told you that? Why can't you just want 7-Up and tomato soup like the rest of us?"

"Cooper always gave me Pop Tarts when I was sick as a kid. I think they were all he knew how to make." Blaine reached out suddenly to grab a tissue and sneezed into it violently three times in a row. He wiped his nose and dropped his head back onto the pillow as if it weighed a ton. "They just make me feel better."

The sheer misery on Blaine's face tugged at Kurt's heart. "I know, I know. I'll go get them. Do you want your phone so that you can write in to have a sub tomorrow? I doubt you'll feel like going in, though those rotten kids deserve to get their germs thrown back at them."

"Hey, don't call them that."

"You just called them monsters!"

"Yeah, but they're _my_ monsters," Blaine said. "Can I have 7-Up with my Pop Tarts? That sounds good, now that you said it."

Swallowing any further lecture on the nutritional deficiencies of toaster pastry, Kurt slipped into the kitchen to make Blaine up a tray. He pushed the lever down on the toaster and poured a glass of 7-Up, holding his breath for a second as the beverage threatened to fizz over the top. As he waited for the pastries to finish browning, he added a vase to the tray and pulled a rose from the small arrangement a fan had given him at the stage door the night before. He snipped the end of the stem off and slid it into the vase, happy with the little bit of cheer it added to the make-shift breakfast.

Though he would never wish illness on Blaine, Kurt kind of secretly loved it when he had the opportunity to take care of him. Blaine was usually so strong and self-sufficient that it felt good to be the protector for a change.

He balanced the tray carefully as he made his way to the bedroom, keeping an eye out in case Elphie decided that it was time to play her favorite game of "how close can I get to someone's feet before they trip". Blaine ate his treat as happily as someone with a dripping nose and watering eyes could and then he sent a quick mail to the school admin to request that they find a substitute for the next day. As soon as he put the phone down, Kurt dosed him with cold medicine, which knocked him out quickly as usual.

While Blaine slept, Kurt took the opportunity to take Elphie out for her morning walk (she'd been waiting semi-patiently by the front door since he'd gotten out of bed). Then, after returning her back to the apartment, he made a run to the grocery store, dropping Pop Tarts, juice, cough syrup, and a few comfort foods into his basket. Once in the checkout line, he looked around to make sure no one was watching before dropping an _Us_ magazine onto the conveyor belt. No sense in advertising the fact that he read the rags from time-to-time.

On the way back home he stopped at a comic book store and asked the clerk for the latest issues of a couple of series that he'd seen Blaine read in the past. Superheroes and such weren't really in the overlapping section of their venn diagram of interests (yes, even after Kurt had appeared as one of the X-men. He didn't have to love the genre to be a part of it) and looking at the brightly colored covers made him wonder, not for the first time, if teenage Blaine and teenage Kurt would have been friends (or more) if they'd known each other.

When he got home, he checked to make sure Blaine was still sleeping and then went to put the groceries away. He was glad that the illness had hit on a Sunday. It would break his heart to have to leave Blaine to go into work. This way he had two whole days off to baby him.

Using the Williams and Sonoma panini press he'd gotten for Christmas from Carole, Kurt made up some grilled cheese sandwiches (he even cut the crusts off, which Blaine preferred, but would never admit to) and soup and then woke Blaine up to eat.

They ate on the couch, snuggled up in the new faux-fur throws that had been such a bargain at the after Christmas sales, while they watched the most ridiculous, trashy reality shows they could find. Reality TV was in a swing towards workplace based shows, but Kurt secretly longed for a return to the celebrity train wrecks a la _Britney and Kevin_ or _Being Bobby Brown_ from his childhood. He knew that, as a celebrity himself, he shouldn't want to see people he might know humiliated like that, but everyone who participated in a reality show knew what they were signing up for, so he decided that made it guilt-free fun.

When the food was cleared away, Kurt wanted to cuddle, but Blaine didn't want them to get any closer than necessary due to his germs.

"I don't want to get you sick, Kurt," Blaine protested, his voice muffled by the oversized cup of tea he held in front of his face.

"It's probably too late for that."

Blaine shook his head firmly. "It disappoints so many people when you miss a performance. We have to do what we can."

So they sat at opposites ends of the couch with their feet entangled in the middle. Elphie jumped up after them, circling a few times before laying down in the gap, her chin resting on their toes.

Eventually, watching TV started to fatigue Blaine's watery eyes. He looked so miserable and drained that Kurt would have given just about anything to make him feel better. There wasn't much he could do, though, other than administer another round of cold medicine and suggest a long, hot bath.

Leaving Blaine on the couch for a few minutes, Kurt got up and prepared the water, using his most expensive, best smelling French bubble bath. He helped Blaine strip off his clothes and watched as he sank into tub, the giant mountain of bubbles almost hiding him from view entirely. Blaine laid back and rested his head on the little inflatable pillow Kurt had placed at one end.

"I love you," he sighed as the tension in his body evaporated.

"I love you, too," Kurt whispered back, unable to resist leaning down and kissing his forehead.

Leaving Blaine to soak, he went around the apartment cleaning up the mini-disaster left over from a day of tending the plague patient. He swept up little balls of used tissue (gross) into a trash can, changed the sheets on their bed, and made sure Elphie still had food and water.

With that work done, he puttered around the bedroom, one ear listening for sounds of movement to ensure that Blaine hadn't fallen asleep and drowned. He plugged both of their phones in to charge and got out a fresh pair of underwear and pajamas for Blaine to change into.

The sound of splashing and a muffled curse word startled him and he rushed in to help Blaine from the bath. Blaine stood stoically silent as Kurt worked his curls over with a towel, grumbling only a little bit under his breath about how he wasn't a baby when Kurt went to help him into his pajamas. Kurt bit back a smile when he felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder as his "not a baby" fought for balance as he struggled with his pants.

Blaine crawled between the fresh sheets and closed his eyes as soon as his head hit the pillow. Elphie jumped up with him and stared with her head tilted to one side as if trying to puzzle out why he was getting into bed so early before curling up next to his leg with a heavy doggy sigh.

"I'm sorry I messed up our Sunday," Blaine mumbled, already half asleep. "We were going to go to that new exhibit at the FIT museum, weren't we?"

Kurt brushed Blaine's hair back from his forehead, smiling as it curled around his fingers. "It's not going anywhere. We'll see it some other time. It was nice just staying home with you. We should do this more often – without one of us infected with the plague of course – it makes me nostalgic for the days of being holed up with you in the Hollywood Hills."

"Mmmm…"

Kurt lay down next to Blaine over the covers, reaching out to intertwine their fingers together in the way that now felt like home to him. Blaine squeezed his hand back in return, no longer protesting about germs and contagion.

They lay like that for a few minutes. Kurt wasn't sleepy — after all it was only late afternoon — but he was content just to relax by Blaine's side. He reached out to scratch Elphie under her chin and laughed quietly when she immediately rolled over on her back and begged him with her sad puppy eyes for a belly rub.

Kurt had thought Blaine had fallen asleep, so he was surprised when he suddenly turned over so they were facing each other.

"Have you given more thought to your big dilemma?" Blaine croaked after clearing his throat.

"You mean the movie versus the series?" Kurt propped his head up on an elbow, his other hand still petting Elphie.

Blaine nodded. "You have to give the movie producers an answer by this week, right?"

"Yeah. I'm not going to do it. The movie, I mean. I can't sign a new contract with _Toy Story_ if I'm going to be off filming a movie for three months or more. They'd have to replace me permanently and I don't think I'm ready to be done playing Woody yet. I was taking my bow last night and I just knew."

"Is that the only reason?" Blaine asked, his brow furrowed with concern.

"I'm not gonna lie. Being away from you for that long would suck—not because I couldn't be without you for that long or because I'm worried about what long distance would do to our relationship, because I could and I'm not, though I'd miss you like crazy and I'd probably be a major bitch to everyone. It's not why I'm going to pass on the role, though, so you can wipe that worried look off your face right now."

He ran a fingertip along Blaine's cheekbone and down to his lips. "I've built a pretty amazing life and career for myself here and I'm not ready to put it on hold. There are so many amazing opportunities to be had by staying in New York and being able to come home to you every night is just one more tick in the 'pro' column."

Blaine stubbornly continued to play devil's advocate. "The movie could do amazing things for you, introduce you to a whole new audience that isn't interested in musicals or superheroes."

"Yeah, but if they haven't figured out how amazing I am already I'm not sure I want them as a fan," Kurt teased.

"You _are_ amazing."

Kurt barely stopped himself from melting into the mattress. It was astounding how Blaine could just slay him with nothing but simple words and cartoon-ready heart eyes. It wasn't the time for romance, though, not with Blaine's eyes red from rubbing and what looked suspiciously like snot starting to run out of his nose, so he retreated behind a joke to hide how touched he was. "Besides, I need to get started on the Emmy I need for my EGOT, so I've got to think seriously about TV," he said, calling back to the joke Blaine had made to try and lessen his nerves on the way to the Oscars.

"Mmmm… yeah. The Grammy will be easy after that," Blaine said, his eyes falling shut as he snuffled into his pillow. "As soon as you decide to record an album it's yours. No contest."

No contest. That was exactly how Kurt felt about the movie in L.A. versus Broadway and Blaine in New York decision.

Absolutely no contest.


	7. Chapter 7

_Kurt Hummel has been cast as a regular in a new pilot for ABC. The as-yet-untitled ensemble musical will follow the lives of friends living in New York who are trying to make careers on Broadway. Sources describe it as a mixture of _Friends_ and _Smash_, though hopefully it's a little more of the former and not so much the messiness of the later. _

_Word is that Kurt accepted the role after producers agreed to make some changes to his character and promised to make his schedule flexible enough so that he can remain on Broadway as Woody in _Toy Story, the Musical_, where he just signed a contract for a second year._

_Just last week it was leaked that Kurt had turned down the role of Austin in the upcoming film version of _The Devil You Know_, reportedly due to the filming schedule that would have prevented him from remaining with _Toy Story_._

_Kurt lives in New York with boyfriend and former bodyguard, Blaine Anderson, who recently began teaching at the prestigious Carlisle Academy, where he… — _HWoodInsider, February 10th, 2021

=^..^=

February

It was the Friday before Valentine's Day and love (and glitter) was in the air.

The kindergarten classroom was buzzing with activity. The kids had brought valentines to give out and the stampede was on to get them all distributed so that they could have the cupcakes that were calling to them from the back of the room. A playlist of some of Blaine's favorite love songs was playing in the background as the kids walked along the walls of the room, slipping their little paper cards into the large decorated envelopes they'd made the day before and personalized with their names in glitter glue.

Everything was going smoothly at the moment, though it was a hard fought thing. Soon after arriving for the day, Madison had come to Blaine to say that she'd forgotten her valentines at home and she'd tearfully declared that the day was ruined. Prepared for just such a catastrophe, Blaine had reached into his bottom desk drawer and pulled out a small bag filled with several boxes of valentines for her to choose from. Madison gazed at him as if he was her hero and picked the box of Littlest Pet Shop cards, skipping back to her seat at the table to start putting names on them.

He'd also had to explain to two of the kids that, yes, they had to give a valentine to everyone in class if they were going to participate in the fun—no giving them out to just a select few. Elijah had declared that he only wanted to give cards out to the "pretty" girls because he "didn't want the ugly ones to get the wrong idea" (Blaine had cringed and made a mental note to research some lessons he could give the kids to counteract some of the misogyny a few of them seemed to be learning at home) and Amy Lynn had protested that she only wanted to give them to the "cool" kids.

After a quick talk and Blaine's firm reaffirmation that they had to treat everyone in the class equally, they'd reluctantly agreed to give out all of their pre-printed cartoon valentines. Blaine kept a watchful eye on both of them, though, as they stopped at each envelope to drop a card in, not putting it past them (especially Elijah, who definitely liked to test his authority) to still try and get around the rules he'd laid down.

The valentine distribution was about halfway done when Blaine heard a light knock behind him. He glanced back and felt his heart leap in his chest when he saw Kurt waving at him from the hallway. He rushed over and yanked the door open.

"Kurt!" Blaine grabbed his hand and pulled him into the classroom with an breathless laugh. "What are you doing here?"

Kurt grinned and unwound his scarf from his neck. "You said you were having story time today and I thought I'd come and offer my services. I hope I'm not intruding."

Blaine's face softened. "Never."

Kurt had stayed away from the school for the first part of the year, wanting to let Blaine find his place and get to know everyone without the famous boyfriend around, but as the new year had started he'd began to pop up every once and a while. Usually it was just to meet Blaine at the end of the day to walk home together, though. This was the first time he'd come when the kids were there.

Blaine could feel 15 pairs of questioning eyes on them, so he drew Kurt in close with a hand on his waist and turned to the class.

"Hey everyone," he called out, stopping the valentine march around the room, "I'd like to introduce you to someone. This is my boyfriend, Kurt. Kurt, this is the afternoon kindergarten class." He proceeded to name the kids off one-by-one. The kids smiled and waved and Kurt waved back.

It wasn't a surprise to any of the kids that his significant other was a man. The dean had told him it was, of course, up to him if he wanted to tell people (those who didn't already know) or keep his private life quiet, but that the school had no issues with him discussing the subject with his students.

On his first day teaching kindergarten he'd put a photo of him and Kurt out on his desk and he'd talked about Kurt when the class had done a family tree project a few weeks later. The kids had all taken the revelation so much in stride that he wondered if their parents had all prepped them ahead of time.

"So, what's going on here?" Kurt asked as he took in the ring of students and the hanging envelopes.

"The kids are handing out valentines and then we're going to eat cupcakes before we make valentines for their parents."

Kurt's face lit up. "Cupcakes? Then I came at just the right time. Do you need any help?"

Blaine glanced around the room thoughtfully. "You could get the cupcakes out of the boxes while the kids finish up here." He tipped his head towards the waiting pastry boxes in the back of the room.

"That I can do." Kurt glanced around quickly before sneaking in a quick kiss to Blaine's cheek and heading towards the back table.

Fighting a silly grin that he knew would just get him teased endlessly, Blaine turned his attention back to the matter at hand. Within 10 minutes they were all finished up and the kids were sitting cross-legged around the room on the floor with their full envelopes at their feet and cupcakes in hand.

The room was quiet for the first time all day as everyone made short work of the treats. Blaine walked around with a little trash can to collect the cupcake wrappers, while Kurt followed along behind with a stack of wet wipes to take care of any stray frosting. Once everything was cleaned up, the kids dug into their cards, squealing excitedly at the different designs and comparing what each of them had gotten.

Blaine reached into his own envelope to pull out a handful of cards. He read each one with a smile before passing it on to Kurt, who read them before stacking them neatly near his knee. Few of the cards were personalized with more than just his name, but most had a pre-printed joke or pun that greatly amused Blaine's inner five-year old.

He reached into the envelope again and pulled out another handful. Almost all of the cards were small and made of simple double-sided cardstock, but he looked down to find one larger card inside an expensive feeling envelope. It was sealed with a red heart sticker and had his name scrawled elegantly across the front in beautiful handwriting.

With a confused look in Kurt's direction, Blaine slid his finger along the opening to break the seal and drew the card out. Jameson, one of the more outgoing kids in the class, saw him holding the card and called out "My mom asked me to give you that, Mr. A" before returning his attention to his friends.

Blaine opened the card, which had a cartoon bear with hearts in its eyes holding a bouquet of roses on the front, and felt his face flush as he read the contents. He looked up at Kurt with wide eyes before blinking exaggeratedly several times.

The card was plucked from his fingers by Kurt, who was looking at it with a gleeful smile. "Okay, what's the smitten mom got to say?" Kurt had gotten a lot better about the female attention Blaine tended to get, coming a long way from the jealousy he'd shown at the New Year's party they'd attended a few years before. Now he tended to just be amused and seemed to enjoy teasing Blaine about how he'd be such a player if he was straight. "I can't _bear_ keeping silent any longer. I've got a crush on you," Kurt whispered, reading the pre-printed section of the card before continuing on to the handwritten section. "Mr. Anderson, I've never done anything like this before, but I can't stop thinking about you. I'm embarrassed to say I'm jealous of my six-year old because he gets to spend part of every day with you while I only get glimpses. I know you won't return these feelings, but I wanted you to know what someone notices and appreciates you bringing the sexy to Carlisle Prep."

Kurt finished reading and cleared his throat. "Well. That was…nice of her? Um, single mom, I hope?"

Blaine groaned and buried his face in his hands. "How am I going to look her in the eye the next time she picks Jameson up?"

"I think she's the one that will be embarrassed. I'll bet this was a spur of the moment thing that she's already regretting. Did you have any idea she had a crush on you?"

"No. I mean she's nice and talkative and she touches my arm a lot, but I thought she was just one of those touchy-feely people. I didn't know it, you know, meant anything."

"Poor Blaine, chick magnetic extraordinaire. Just think about all the straight guys who can't get a girl to look twice at them no matter what they do." Kurt shook his head sadly. "So unfair."

"Ha ha. Help me out here. What do I do?"

"No way. I told you when you started this job that you'd have to figure out a way to deal with student and mommy infatuation and you didn't believe me. Now I'm just gonna sit here and enjoy the show."

Blaine stuck his lower lip out a little and batted his eyelashes. "No fair."

The sound of the music going up several decibels preempted Kurt's retort and Blaine jumped to his feet to go investigate. He found Hazy and Siobhan bent over his iPod, arguing in loud stage whispers.

"Girls?" he asked, his hands on his hips as he looked down at them.

"Mr. A!" Hazy yelped as she dropped the music player back onto the desk. "We just wanted to see what other songs you have."

"And was touching something I've asked you not to play with the right way to do that?"

"Nooooo, but you and Kurt were looking at each other the way my mommy and daddy do before they go into their room and play music really loud, so I didn't want to interrupt."

Blaine nearly choked on his own saliva and hurried the girls back to the group. Seeing Kurt laughing into his hand wasn't helping matters.

He clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. "Alright everyone. Now we're going to have craft time and make valentines for you to bring back to your parents. Everyone grab a space at the tables and let's get started."

There was a mad scramble for the seats and soon everyone was immersed in cutting and gluing. Thankfully, there were no meltdowns like there had been the last time, not even when Siobhan got glue in her hair.

Kurt started out just standing back and observing, but Blaine watched as he got drawn in until he was sitting between two of the girls as they "helped" him construct a large glitter and doily covered heart that had "Blaine" spelled out in stickers across the top.

"So, Kurt," Carly asked, trying very hard to sound like an adult. "Do you like being an actor?"

"I do, very much." Kurt took the tube of glitter she offered him and spun the cap off. "Thank you for asking."

Carly squeezed out some glue onto the heart and spread it around with her finger before nodding for Kurt to pour the glitter. "You're welcome. I haven't seen a whole one of your movies, yet, 'cause I'm too young. You should do a kids movie. You sound like a cartoon."

Kurt paused and tilted his head as if trying to figure out if he'd just been complimented or not. Given the source, he seemed to take it as a good thing. "Thank you again. I'll see what I can do about that."

"You should. My mommy wouldn't like it, but I really would."

"Why wouldn't she like it?" Kurt raised his eyes to Blaine's, who could see the gears turning in his head as he thought of the obvious reasons why someone wouldn't want Kurt in a kids movie.

"'Cause it'd be just your voice. She really liked you as an X-man, but she told my Aunt Jodi that you needed to be naked in your next movie and you can't be naked if it's just your voice."

Blaine smirked at Kurt's stunned expression and began to catalog all the ways he'd torture him with that story when they got home. After all, he deserved it for the way he'd teased Blaine about the mommy crush. Kurt knew intellectually that women found him attractive—he'd seen the Tumblr posts, after all—but it wasn't often someone mentioned it directly to him like that. Turnabout was fair play.

Kurt stumbled through his response to Carly's statement and then turned to the girl on his other side, who was cutting out a heart chain, the tip of her tongue poked slightly out between her teeth. "Katy, right?"

The girl shook her head. "Katniss. I'm named after a great faminist heroine."

The urge to correct her pronunciation of "feminist" was strong, but Blaine decided not to interrupt, instead just tucking his bottom lip under and smiling when Kurt mouthed "Katniss?" at him.

"Well, Katniss," Kurt responded. "Do you think I should add anything else to this masterpiece we're making?"

Katniss considered the paper in front of him carefully. "It needs candy hearts." She reached over and picked up a bowl of the candies and set it in front of Kurt.

"Perfect," Kurt said as he flicked his fingers through the bowl looking for the right message. "Just what it needed."

"Kurt, you and Mr. A. can borrow my nanny, if you need to." The offer came out of nowhere from next to Blaine and both he and Kurt turned to Parker in confusion.

"Um, that's a nice offer," Kurt responded, "but why would we need to borrow your nanny?"

"When my mom went to visit my grandma last year she was gone a whole month and my dad and I kinda made a mess of our apartment. It was so bad I thought we might have to move! But dad said it'd be okay when mom got back home, because all the place needed was a woman's touch. If you and Mr. A live together alone then your mess must be huge! I got a nanny when my mom went back to work, so you can borrow her for her touch, if you want."

The little boy looked so earnest that Blaine wanted to hug him tight. "That's really nice of you, Parker, but I think we're good. We keep things pretty tidy at home."

Craft time wound down and the finished pieces of art were laid out to dry. After the supplies were put away, Blaine gathered everyone together for story time. He handed the book he'd picked out to Kurt and then took a seat with the kids, wrapping his arms around his bent knees. Kurt began reading and he was so good with the voices that he had everyone entranced within minutes.

Blaine looked around at the enraptured little faces and felt like life was just about perfect. He loved teaching, but almost even more than that he loved that it had brought his relationship with Kurt into equilibrium. He'd worked for Kurt's management company when he'd been his bodyguard, so he'd never been his personal employee—which had made moving from bodyguard to boyfriend relatively painless—but there had always been a notable difference in their statuses: bodyguard and client, unemployed aspiring teacher and successful actor.

Now that he was building a part of his life that was separate from Kurt, he felt like it was actually making them stronger as a couple. He had stories himself to tell at night and not just listen to Kurt's. He had found his dream, too, so they were on equal footing.

Kurt growled out a line in a deep voice as he introduced a new character, setting the kids giggling. Blaine leaned his head against the wall and sighed as he let Kurt's voice carry him away.

=^..^=

Valentine's Day was Sunday and Blaine had made a romantic dinner reservation and wrapped his present for Kurt (he'd gone to a studio and recorded a CD of love songs, since Kurt was always commenting on how much he loved Blaine's voice every time he sang in the shower), but he had something up his sleeve for Saturday, too.

Unbeknownst to Kurt, he'd gotten a ticket for _Toy Story_—something he hadn't done in several months— and he'd conspired with the stage manager to make the evening special for Kurt.

He dressed up in his nicest suit—picked out by Kurt, naturally—and arrived at the theater just as the house lights were flickering for the last time. He slipped into his seat just as the curtain rose, his toe already tapping along with the jaunty opening music. He'd seen the show almost too many times to count, but he was still amazed by how alive Kurt became on the stage. Though he was great in the movies, he shined even brighter in the theater, playing off the crowd, putting a little extra into his performance when he felt the energy of the crowd dropping.

Kurt had told him once that he tried to do something different in his performance every night, usually by changing one of two lines that were ripe for ad-libbing. Blaine listened intently for that moment and laughed along with the audience when Kurt made a ridiculous pun that had the actor playing Buzz Lightyear fighting to keep a straight face.

The show flew by and Blaine was one of the first ones on his feet to give the cast a standing ovation. He clapped and cheered even harder when Kurt took his bow and was glad that everyone else was applauding just as loudly so that Kurt didn't hear his voice. He didn't want to ruin the surprise just yet.

Just as the cast clasped hands and stepped back so that the curtain could come down for the last time, the stage manager stepped out from the wings carrying a bouquet of red and yellow roses so large he almost couldn't carry it. The audience held its collective breath as he walked, whispering to themselves as they tried to guess who the flowers might be for. Wild applause broke out when he came to a stop in front of Kurt.

Though Blaine would have loved to have brought the roses out on stage himself, he knew that the spectacle would be too much for Kurt, that exposing his personal life in front of all those people wouldn't be something that he'd like, especially after the publicity of the previous summer.

So he was content to watch from his seat as Kurt read the card, a gigantic smile spreading across his face. Kurt buried his face in the roses and inhaled deeply before lowering them and searching the crowd until his eyes meet Blaine's. Kurt's smile deepened with promise.

Oh yes, it was going to be a good Valentine's Day.


	8. Chapter 8

March

"The streets of Manhattan and surrounding boroughs will soon be home to another television series. A still unnamed musical series starring Academy Award winner Kurt Hummel will begin filming in New York City next month and sources say the show will feature the city prominently. No word on the exact plot of the show yet, but I'm sure we'll all be tuning in as long as Kurt's singing, right? It'll be fun to go see him filming and certainly a lot cheaper than tickets to Toy Story. Gosh, Broadway prices really break the bank these days, don't they? Check out our website for all the information we have about when and where the show will be filming."

"In other news, authorities at Cliffside Hospital in Rochester have notified police of a security break at their psychiatric wing which has led to the escape of at least two patients…" - ABC local morning news, March 28th, 2021.

=^..^=

"Watch this, Mr. A!"

Blaine watched, giving all his attention to Hazy, who gripped the metal bar with her hands on either side of her knee. She leaned forward and spun around the bar over-and-over again, making his breath catch a little each time she lifted her hands slightly to reposition them.

It was late March and the spring-like weather that week meant that the kids were once again playing on the monkey bars and jungle gyms that they'd ignored during the winter months. If they were going to continue to play on the bars like that he'd have to have Kurt give him some pointers. He could just imagine the kid's faces if he came out during recess one day and started spinning around on the bars himself.

He was running his eyes along the perimeter fence on an instinctual search for possible danger when he heard his name being called from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to see Mrs. Putney from the main office walking quickly towards him.

"Mr. Anderson, a message came in for you at the office." She handed him a slip of paper with Kurt's name on it. "It's Mr. Hummel. He said he tried your cell, but wasn't able to get a hold of you. Evidently it's very urgent."

Blaine patted his right jacket pocket, frowning when he didn't feel his phone inside. He must have left it on his desk after he'd taken a few photos that morning. He looked down at the message and his heart seized in his chest. Kurt never called him a work. At most, he'd send a few text messages, but a call? Never. Something must be wrong. "Thanks. Can you…I need to…"

"I'll take over as playground monitor." Mrs. Putney took the metal coaches whistle from him and made a shooing motion with her hand. "Go. Call him back. He sounded upset."

With an absent wave to the girls gathered at the bars, Blaine turned and jogged back to the school, racing up the stairs to his classroom. He had Kurt's number pulled up and dialed before he'd even caught his breath.

"Kurt, what's wrong?" Blaine asked as soon as Kurt picked up, not even waiting for a "hello."

"I got a call from the police." Kurt's voice was steady on the surface, but Blaine could detect a slight waiver underneath. "It's Rodney. He's escaped from the hospital and they think he might be coming here."

Rodney. Blaine hadn't heard that name in almost a year. Kurt didn't like to talk about his stalker and Blaine hadn't seen a reason to bring up bad memories when the man in question was locked up in a mental care facility after a plea bargain had kept him from prison. The bargain struck by the prosecuting attorney had stipulated that Rodney would remain hospitalized for an indefinite amount of time with quarterly checks on his progress. He was prone to violence and a danger to others, but the doctors at the facility had felt strongly that they could help him.

Blaine had been against the deal. Rodney hadn't seemed to him to be someone who didn't know right from wrong—he'd tried too hard to cover his tracks for that—but Kurt hadn't wanted the publicity of a trial and had been convinced that the hospital was the best way to go.

Due to patient privacy laws, Kurt wouldn't get updates on how Rodney was doing unless he was being considered for release, but he'd been okay with that, happy to leave it all behind. All they knew was that Rodney had been moved to a hospital in upstate New York under careful guard.

Not careful enough, as it turned out.

"He escaped?" Blaine asked, already pulling on his jacket.

"They don't know much. Just that he and another patient missed the evening check-in last night."

Blaine took the stairs two at a time. "Last night? So he's been out for over 12 hours? And they just called you now?"

"They didn't want to worry me, but I guess they found a bunch of photos and stories about us in his room when they searched it today."

Blaine stopped at the front office to get someone to cover his class, and within minutes he was sailing out the front door towards the street.

A cab screeched to a halt in front of him in response to his raised arm and he climbed inside, giving his address to the man behind the wheel and offering a large tip if they got there as quickly as possible. With a nod and gleam in his eye, the cabbie took off, weaving in and out of traffic like a race car driver.

Blaine kept Kurt on the phone for the whole trip, chatting casually to keep his mind occupied while trying not to give the driver any information he could turn around and sell to a reporter.

The buildings flew by and before he knew it, the taxi was pulling up in front of his building. He handed the cabbie the fare and the promised tip and ran inside. He didn't even have a chance to fit his key into the lock before Kurt yanked it open and leaped into his arms.

"I'm so glad you're here," Kurt breathed as he wrapped his arms tightly around Blaine's neck. "I'm sorry for bothering you at work. I know it's silly, but I just needed you here. I feel like such a scaredy-cat."

Blaine burrowed his face into Kurt's neck. "God, Kurt, it's not silly. I need you right now just as much as you need me. There's no shame in being scared. That guy terrorized you and you can't be expected to just forget that." He walked Kurt backwards until he could close and lock the door behind him and then led them over to couch. "Now, tell me everything."

Kurt collapsed down onto the cushions, tucking one leg beneath him with his back against the arm of the couch as he described the phone call he'd received that morning in detail. When he was done he twisted his hands together and grimaced down at them. "I guess he's been getting worse since all the publicity last summer. I didn't even think about what effect my being in the news so much would have on him. I do an excellent impression of an ostrich with its head stuck in the sand, don't I?"

With one tug on his hands, Blaine brought Kurt over onto his lap. "No one blames you for not wanting to hear about him, Kurt. He was getting help and that's all you needed to know. Spending any time thinking about him was a waste of your energy and will be again as soon as they catch him."

Kurt nodded solemnly and sank his weight against Blaine's chest as part of the tension in his body released. "The police promised to call when they had any more information. Distract me, please. How was your day?" He grimaced and dropped his forehead onto Blaine's shoulder. "At least the little of it that there was."

Blaine tightened his arms around Kurt's back and went into a dramatic recounting of what he'd decided to call the "The Great Superman Underwear Dispute of 2021". He even managed to get Kurt to giggle a few times, which he considered a major personal victory. Eventually, rumbling stomachs drove them from each other's arms and Blaine got up so that he could put together a quick lunch while Kurt wrapped himself up in a blanket and burrowed into the couch.

Before making his way to the kitchen, Blaine drew the curtains shut on all their windows and double-checked the lock and chain on the front door. Satisfied that the apartment was as safe as he could make it under such short notice, he pulled his phone from his pocket and called down to the doorman to notify him of the situation and make sure that no one was allowed in to see them.

He then called Bev and the police detective he'd spoken to back when Rodney had been arrested, getting the latest details with the phone tucked up between his shoulder and cheek while he put together a tray of crackers, cheese, and—at the last second—two heaping bowls of ice cream drizzled liberally with chocolate sauce.

Not exactly a traditional lunch but, if the light in Kurt's eyes when he saw the ice cream was any indication, it was just what the doctor ordered. They ate on the couch, the TV playing quietly in the background as the latest quasi-celebrity talk show host interviewed the contestant kicked off some reality show the night before.

Kurt made short work of his food—he was a self-confessed stress eater—and set the empty bowl back down on the tray, the spoon clanging loudly against the side. He bent his head back over the edge of the couch, looking towards the front door. "I think Elphie needs to go out. She's doing that little dance that tells me we've got about 10 minutes before things start to get messy."

"I'll ask Mrs. Ahjani if she'll take her out for her walk. She owes us for pet sitting Rosco last month."

The neighbor came down in short order and took the dog out for her walk. As Blaine closed the door behind her he noticed a thick envelope on the table with Kurt's name and "Pilot" written on it. He picked it up and carried it back to the living room. "Is this your first script?"

Kurt took the offered envelope and slid the top open. "I forgot. They delivered it this morning. We start filming in two weeks."

"Want me to run lines with you?"

Kurt flipped the script open to the first page and smirked. "Do you want to play my overly ambitious, but ultra-talented roommate—a little too close to home, by the way, Rachel's ears must be burning—or the casting director who wants to see how I'd look spread out on his couch?"

Blaine dropped a knee down on the cushion so that he could lean into Kurt. "Hmmm…the casting director sounds promising, though I'd probably just end up all indignant on your behalf. Let's go with the roommate. I've been dying to break out my Rachel Berry impersonation."

They ran through Kurt's scenes, doing them normally several times before starting to play and take on funny accents or horrible acting styles. A particularly funny version, where Kurt said everything as if he was the Queen of England, had Blaine gasping for breath, his fingers skipping over Elphie's—who had been since been returned from her walk—soft ears. "I don't want to jinx things, but this is really good, Kurt. You might have a hit on your hands."

"EGOT here I come!" Kurt crowed triumphantly. They grinned like idiots at each other for several seconds before Kurt's smile slipped away. "We're going to be filming all over the city. What if they don't catch him by then? What if he's still out there and I have to go in front of the cameras imagining him in every crowd? What if—"

Blaine clasped Kurt's hands tightly in his. "They'll catch him, Kurt. The detective I spoke to said they've got some good leads."

Kurt pushed his way off the couch and stalked towards the back wall, his fists clenched at his side. "God, I hate this! I've spent my whole life trying to not be a victim and here I am, holed up in my house hiding away again." He turned back to face Blaine with an agitated sigh. "Why am I so upset? We spent months dealing with the creep last time and I didn't let it get to me like this."

"Maybe because it came out of nowhere? I don't know about you, but this was about the last thing I expected to hear today."

"Exactly!" Kurt paced around the room, reaching out with one foot to kick a pillow that had fallen from the couch. "It's like one of those stupid movie endings when the hero doesn't make sure the bad guy's dead and he pops up at the last minute for one final scare. I hate those endings. Such a cliché and a crutch for bad writing. Yet another reason theater is better than the movies. When was the last time you saw a Broadway show where the villain rises from the dead right before the final curtain to attack the hero one last time?"

"Umm…"

"Exactly! Never!" The indignation drained from Kurt's face and he twisted his mouth off to one side. "Not that I'm saying I wish Rodney dead or anything."

"Of course not."

"I just kinda never wanted to hear his name again. Is that too much to ask?"

"Not at all." Blaine stood up and walked over to Kurt, rising up onto his tiptoes to place a kiss on his forehead.

"Rodney did do one good thing, you know," Kurt said, his lips quirking up on one side.

Blaine tried to guess what he was referring to, but came up empty. "What?"

"He brought you into my life. Without him we never would have met. I guess when you look at it like that we have a lot to thank him for."

"I'll bake him a cake when he's safely back in the hospital," Blaine replied, his tone dry as the Sahara.

A loud bang suddenly sounded from the kitchen and Blaine stepped between Kurt and the doorway, all his muscles primed for action. He heard Kurt's breath catch behind him and felt a hand wrap around his upper arm. There was a sound of movement from the other room and a shadow shifted and…Elphie trotted out of the kitchen carrying her food bowl clenched delicately between her teeth.

Relief coursed through Blaine's veins as he knelt down to take the bowl from her. "Are we neglecting you, girl?" he said as he ran his hand down her silky back.

"We are a couple of idiots," Kurt said with a giggle. "Were we really expecting danger to come from the windowless room that someone would have zero chance of getting in to?"

"I prefer to think of it as 'prepared for any situation,'" Blaine replied, happy to hear Kurt laughing. "Come on, let's feed the monster here and then, if you ask nicely, I might make you my famous manicotti, the recipe of which has been passed down in my family for generations."

Kurt raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Uh huh. Is this anything like your famous Sloppy Joes? Because I'm not sure I'm up for another bout of food poisoning tonight."

Blaine clutched his hands to his chest dramatically. "Hey! It wasn't my fault the bodega sent us bad hamburger."

"Yeah, bad hamburger. You keep telling yourself that."

Hours later, Kurt and Blaine sat in front of the fire, bellies full and bodies warm as they snuggled together beneath a blanket.

"I've been asked to coordinate Carlisle's end of year musical show," Blaine said as he wiggled his toes against Kurt's to warm them. "The choirs from each grade evidently perform and then awards are given for the top three songs. It's a big competition for bragging rights for the entire next year, so I need to come up with a great theme."

"You're going to come up with something so amazing those kids won't know what hit them. They are so lucky to have you. They don't even know how lucky."

Blaine flushed with pleasure at the compliment. "I'm pretty sure I'm the lucky one, but thank you. I did confirm that my running the show doesn't disallow the kindergarten from winning, so everyone else can expect to fight it out for second place." He began to describe some of the theme ideas he'd been thinking of, stopping only when he noticed a sorrowful look on Kurt's face. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"You just make me feel so safe and loved."

Blaine cocked his head to the side in confusion. "And since you look like you're about to cry I'm guessing that that's a bad thing?"

"No, no, of course not," Kurt rushed to reassure him. "It's just...you'd be such an amazing dad, but...I don't want kids. Never have."

The knot that had begun to tighten in Blaine's stomach loosened and he smiled with relief. "I know that, Kurt and it's okay. Really."

Kurt shook his head miserably. "I feel like I'm robbing you of your chance. Especially when I don't have a good reason. It's not like I hate kids or anything, I just…don't want any for myself. I'm horrible and selfish."

"Kurt, not wanting kids doesn't make you selfish or a bad person. It's good that you realize being a parent isn't for you now and not _after_ you have kids. If you're looking for someone to make you feel bad about knowing what you want and don't want then you'll have to look somewhere else. I'm not like those old Prop 8 supporters who argued that the only reason for relationships was to have kids."

"Marriage."

"What?"

"They argued that the point of marriage was to have kids." A ghost of a smile crossed Kurt's lips. "And I'm pretty sure they meant the old fashioned way, which kind of leaves us out no matter what."

"That wasn't actually my point," Blaine chuckled and jabbed Kurt lightly with his elbow. "My point was that you don't have to be ashamed of your choice or worry about me. I've got my students and that's enough. Besides with my family background I'm not so sure I'm really parent material." He caught Kurt's look of disbelief. "Teaching is not the same as parenting. I get to hand the kids off after four hours. I don't have to deal with the really hard stuff. An aptitude for one doesn't necessarily ensure success at the other." Kurt still looked unconvinced. "Look, if you change your mind at some point in the future then we can talk, but if you don't, I'm not going to get to the end of my life and regret not having kids. I would, however, regret every second not spent with you. You aren't robbing me of anything. I'm not sacrificing _anything_. Okay?"

"Okay." Kurt paused and stared at the fire. "You know you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, right? That without you none of this would mean anything. I love you so much."

Blaine felt his heart melt in his chest. "I love you, too."

They were just about to kiss when Kurt's phone suddenly rang, causing them both to jump and stare at it as if it was a hissing snake.

"Do you want me to get it?" Blaine asked into the tension filled silence.

"No, I'll get it. I'm not going to hide behind anyone anymore." Blaine watched as Kurt took a deep breath and picked up the phone, sliding his thumb across the screen to accept the call. He lifted it to his ear and answered in a calm, low voice. "Hello, this is Kurt Hummel."

Kurt paused to listen to the other person speak, the hard set of his shoulders not giving any hint as to what they were saying. He gave a few polite, non-committal responses and then said "thank you" before hanging up. He dropped the phone back down to the table and spun around to face Blaine. "They caught him!"

Relief flooded Blaine's body and he jumped up from his seat to grab Kurt up in a full-body hug. "Thank god."

"Yeah. I guess he didn't even make it out of Rochester. They found him and the other missing patient in the back store room of a local department store. I guess they went in there to steal some clothes and then got accidently locked inside."

"Serves him right."

"I guess they think he got out by tricking one of the nurses. He evidently had her convinced that they were in love and that I was a scorned lover who'd had him committed out of spite."

Blaine felt a spark of anger flare at how Rodney treated the women in his life. "At least he's consistent."

Kurt reached down to pick up a jumping Elphie, who never liked to be left out of a hug. "They'll call tomorrow with more info. They just wanted me to know he was back in custody."

"I'm glad they did. They saved us from a sleepless night."

"I think I'm going to go call my dad. Do you mind if I…" Kurt tilted his head towards the bedroom door.

"No, go ahead. I'll just clean-up in here." He grabbed Kurt's hands and pulled him closer for a slow, deep kiss. "Smile, Kurt. This is good news. They caught him and everything's fine."

Kurt nodded and picked up his phone on his way towards the bedroom, but Blaine could still see shadows in his eyes. It would be a little while before he was able to relax completely. Blaine had seen it over-and-over again with his clients. It took the mind and body awhile to absorb and deal with harrowing situations.

He picked up the blanket they'd been using and folded it over the back of the couch, before sitting down and dropping his head back. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, concentrating on the different muscle groups in his body and forcing them to relax one-by-one.

It hadn't been a horrible day, all things considered. Stressful and frightening, yes, but everything had turned out alright in the end and they were even able to uncover a festering wound that Blaine hadn't even known was there. He hadn't been lying when he told Kurt he was okay with not having kids. They'd talked about it before and he honestly hadn't given it another thought, but it was obvious that Kurt had.

Now that he knew Kurt was still feeling guilty, he could do something about it. He wasn't about to let something like that come between them and if they were going to take their relationship to the next level—which he wholeheartedly wanted to do—then they had to believe that they both saw the same future.

And that future was each other.


End file.
